


Objects are Closer Than They Appear

by muguetmuse



Category: Gintama
Genre: AU, Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Action/Adventure, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, POV Multiple, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 21:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muguetmuse/pseuds/muguetmuse
Summary: It begins with Sakata Gintoki's arrest. From there, the rundown as simple as Hijikata had put it: bodyguarding a girl in her own tea store.'She must have lame security,' Okita mused./ AU wherein the yato clan, headed by Umibozu, have a clan on Earth and influence in Tokugawa politics which leads Kagura to the underground ring.





	1. Prologue - Gintoki

**Author's Note:**

> It's good to recall episode 27 of Gintama on Rengogukan. Be sure to read the notes from the first chapter when it's posted. Fear not, Okita and Kagura POVs are in the first chapter. Happy reading!  
> Also, sorryfortheangst.

The contact of iron piercing through his thin layer of clothing through his skin pained him enough.  
  
It tore ligaments and tendons apart, the muscle that functioned his sword swinging arm. Bastards wouldn't even let him finish.  
  
In the distance, Gintoki caught Kagura's beyond broken watchfulness from where he told her to go. Low to the ground and shimmering on the brink of tears. A strong future matriarch to the yatos, brought down by the sight of a pitiful samurai.  
  
Hilarious.  
  
Gintoki remembered how he got here clearly. From where he stood, surrounded and outnumbered, alone on a dirt, dark arena meant for blood, he could retrace his mistake. But it didn't begin with interrupting a brawl or even telling her to run.  
  
Not at all.  
  
The Tendoshuu, cloaked forces of evil, would argue it all began with his master. Or even the war, when he took arms to fight a losing battle.  
  
But here, strangled by the same cloaks and bells that haunted him in his dreams, Gintoki focused only on Kagura. Where he failed to be a guardian and friend to her when her real one was absent.  
  
It was his regret and mistake to deny her to join Odd Jobs. She belonged to her clan, to focus on caring for her mother, and to keep the brother she complains so much about out of trouble. She had responsibilities. Dreams, maybe, of running the clan herself.  
  
The Tendoshuu barely looked at the other to decide whoever to pull the blade from his shoulder. First, they twisted it deeper into his body of muscle and bone. _'ell, take it out already, you pretentious asses!_ Gintoki bit out his unfiltered complaints, knowing damn well it'd only double the pressured spike in his system.    
  
The brief adventures she, Shinpachi, and himself shared as Odd Jobs stayed in that bubble of time he could never get back since he told her to get her head out of the clouds and concentrate on real life.  
  
If his situation wasn't so dire, he'd chuckle. _Take your own advice, you shithead._  
  
Despite the odds of survival, despite the good that pulled him to help a dead man and his orphans, despite the findings of that sadist tax robber that landed him in this place, Gintoki looked straight ahead, avoiding the pleading gaze of the Odd Jobs member that never was. Because of goddamn conscience, it always remained Shinpachi, Otae, and himself.  
  
If any silver lining existed in such a hidden-from-the-world place, it'd be the chance that lured him here to investigate the commotion of a thrilling match between the losing Onijishi and Kagura.  
  
Now, he let himself chuckle. Heard the dry, dark humor in his own resounding laughter. Nothing could be more cavalier. Was this what those stuck up samurai called fortitude, or was this a new form of bravery he bullshitted on his way to death's door?  
  
"Listen up. Don't make me a goddamn martyr in your dingy hole, alright? I wanna be able to read JUMP out in the sun before I die; I think that's the way you gotta go."  
  
He'd always been known to be the innocent, flagrant bum of Kabukicho. Might as well go down as exactly that.  
  
A man yanked away the bloody sword from his shoulder and Gintoki listened intently for fleeting feet hitting the ground, moving far from here.


	2. Chamomile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tendoshuu still flooded the place, their faces masked under the shadows of brimmed hats. The difference now laid in the center, the act they surround on. Kagura tried her hardest not to look at the Onijishi, bloodied, on the ground. She comforted herself knowing the demon fighter was only unconscious and not dead.
> 
> 'No thanks to me.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, there won't be any long pre-notes.  
> Some things to be made aware of are…  
> (1) Canon setting but AU details and plot considering the situation wherein the Yorozuya was still formed–minus Kagura– and life goes on.  
> (2) A bunch of details goes into canon divergence for the sake of this story.  
> (3) It’s good to know episode 27 for reference about the fighting arena. Onijishi=mercenary who killed Kidomaru (who had a bunch of orphans) and took his place in the fighting ring. If you recall how Yorozuya+Shinsengumi worked to avenge Kidomaru's death on behalf of the orphans and they get to the bottom of Rengokukan.  
> (4) how I portray Okita and Kagura I guess isn't their run-of-the-mill relationship/character but I think I managed to capture a more mature and story-tailored form.
> 
> The posting schedule will be inconsistent though I can say for certain the next part will optimistically out by October (senior year is PACKED). Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Shouting. Lots and lots of shouting, from garbled to nuanced Japanese or indiscernible alien languages. Her chest palpitating and hands shaking, she almost thought she might not make it out of here without crying under the pressure.

The pitch black of her screwed closed eyes conjured nothing but images of Gintoki knocking the red masked fighter with his bokuto instead of her killer-intent hands. And so, the mentor saved the student once again.

_Gin-chan's in trouble instead of me Gin-chan's in trouble instead of me_

Her ears picked up on the wrestle for order, the demands to know what happened to their prized fighter, and for the questions that a silver haired samurai, armed with nothing but a bokuto, posed. 

_Gin-chan might not make it out alive because of me._

Kagura and her obsession with avenging Kidomaru for a bunch of kids. _But they were just kids who got their caretaker taken from them so soon–dammit._

Tightening a fist, Kagura slammed it into the wall behind her. Concrete against open wounds sent flames up her arm, but she bit down her winces. The impact barely cracked a sound. Heaving a heavy exhale, Kagura summoned a brittle semblance of courage. To clear her head to at least give her friend, estranged or not, the courtesy to see him off.

“If it isn’t the Shiroyasha. Trying to thwart this nation from the ground up like the first time?” She noted the ice, an unsurfaced resent for Gintoki in the Tendoshuu member’s voice. Like Gintoki was an old rival they were eager to catch but hateful to encounter again. For a guy who sat around reading inappropriate magazines all day, he sure got around.

She swallowed the lump growing in her throat. The jingle of their bell-staffs resounded hauntingly uniform and ominous under artificial light in an otherwise dark place.

Another voice cut in. “Didn’t you have an accomplice or two to do with it? The Shinsengumi’s help, even?”

“Ha? Why care for that when your greatest threat to this country is right here?” Kagura found the image of Gintoki picking his nose absentmindedly comforting. “Look here, occult posers–“

He yelled at the same time she hears metal rip cloth. He began to grumble low, the same volume and tone as he does whenever he complained about having to pay rent, at least, last she saw him, that’s the most irritated he could be. Though muffled by the distance and perhaps, Kagura reasoned his pain, she deciphers the most hopeful a quavering voice could be in him.

Her back pressed against the wall like she was going to disappear with it any second now. Was Gin-chan going to be okay? Would she ever see him alive again? Fuck if she knew.

She waited for her body to calm down, her breaths to even out, but it looked like it would take forever for it to come. The opening to the underground arena stood fingertips away from her view. Kagura’s fingers twitched to meet the light of the entrance, the place he firmly instructed her to sprint out through. Crouching close to the hard, dirt ground and placing a palm above her to steady herself, Kagura peered into the chaotic scene.

The Tendoshuu still flooded the place, their faces masked under the shadows of brimmed hats. The difference now laid in the center, the act they surround on. Kagura tried her hardest not to look at the Onijishi, bloodied, on the ground. She comforted herself knowing the demon fighter was only unconscious and not dead.

_No thanks to me._

For a moment, Kagura held her palms up to fill her vision. Images of disarming his massive weapon and a blur of attacks flashed across her mind's eye. Hands streaked with red, Onijishi’s red, and that was all she could focus on before a Tendoshuu member barked out a command.

The Tendoshuu yanked a short sword from the silver haired samurai’s shoulder with a flick of their wrist. As easily as it slid out, Gintoki winced. Knowing him, Gintoki was far from afraid, even if his good shoulder was out of commission, and it showed when the lights hit his eyes.

Steely red reflected his own resolve. Nobody seems surprised at a samurai’s bravery, and neither is Kagura. If anything, watching Gintoki now sparks the smallest glimmer of hope. An instant later, those same eyes flicker to where Kagura watches him. She met his gaze, hard. It was for the shortest second, uncountable even, but it _’s enough._

Kagura told herself it was enough.

Despite his scraggly looks, the Tendoshuu chained him up like a high alert terrorist. Seriously, Kagura mused, if only they knew how much of a hobo Gin was.

That same time, Kagura turned away. If things were simpler, if she never frequented Rengokukan or challenged Onijishi, she’d laugh at his pitiful ass before busting him free. Side by side, Kagura imagined, Gin-chan slashing his way to freedom and never looking back. He should have kept on moving forward rather than peer in on her match with Onijishi.

Then he’d be a free man and she, a full-fledged yato.

She gulped down more of the bile rising in her throat and blinked until she saw the narrow incline leading to the surface. She needed to get out of there fast, for her own safety and to save her ass with Papi. She’d nearly forgotten his visit to their clan today.

Before she could stand, amphibious Amanto appeared like green spots in the dark, clandestine but slowly revealing themselves as they approached her, long, toe-scratching feet inching to her crouched form. They stood tall and armed with knives and clubs security must’ve let them have.

But that wasn’t what Kagura couldn’t shake. She stabbed a thumb at the long face, giant eyes of a green head and covered her mouth.

“Whoa, you look like the frog I saw in the courtyard yesterday!”

“F-frog?! You got the guts to call us a toad after your bloody spectacular! Getting carried away much?” It spat thickly all over her, and she cringed as she wiped their thick saliva her arm. Frog-like, gross, and pretentious.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it already,” Kagura forced herself to dismiss the topic altogether, already inching closer to the staircase. A few more feet and she could swing her legs up the steps and into the exit in record time. “Are you one of Jiraiya’s toads? Y’know, like in Naruto?”

The main frog tossed his hands up. “Fine! We’re frogs!” A beat later, a poorly-aimed knife landed three feet from her. “But don’t underestimate us or the money we lost betting for the wrong team! We totally see what you’re trying to do here!”

“You got me there…ohmygod, is that a fly?”

“WHERE?!”

“Made you look,” she said before delivering a deft blow to its chest.

* * *

 

It was the dead of night and hours after the arrest. Days after Kidomaru died and the children were sent off to an orphanage, all together somehow. Weeks after Okita began this silly pastime of spectating bloody spectacles and investigating. 

He slouched off the side, ears perked up and tuned to the self-crowned power of another planet lecture his superiors for his actions.

He clenched his fist, even if the dressings wrapped around his knuckles threatened to show off more red than the bandages concealed. It still ached around the fingers from his assault on the closest wall.

If only he’d acted on his suspicions sooner or gathered more substance against the goings on at Rengokukan.

On any normal occasion, if he were 18 again and careless, all of this monkey business would mean nothing; the same way he treated his patrol duties when nothing interesting happened.

But when he found out large officials backed the fighting ring in Rengokukan, his hands were tied and well, intrigued by its calling to him. Even when he sent Sakata Gintoki and the Shimura boy to look into Kidomaru after watching a women’s match and showing them the reality, it wasn’t enough for Kidomaru. It was too much for _Boss’s_ already rebellious standing with the government.

The door slid open.

Kondo emerged from the room, rolling the tension in and out his shoulders. “You tried to do the right thing. I’m honestly proud you did it.” His mentor clapped his shoulder solidly, appearing weary in the creases of his eyes. Like this was a long time coming.

Okita suddenly lifted his eyes to Kondo. “Uh, did I hear that right? Proud you eliminated another man from big sis Tae’s life?”

Maybe Okita started pushing the sarcastic humor too soon then at Kondo’s quick frown.

“Rather,” Hijikata crossed his arms as he appeared in front of him,“it means we get to put you on mandated leave while making use of your time.”

“I think I’d be making better use of it rigging your room with explosives.”

Had this been Kondo informing him, no problem.

“I’m being serious here! Matsudaira-san doesn't give a rat’s ass what we do with you but...oi, did you break something?” Hijikata gestured to his fist.

Okita stared him the ‘The fuck you care?’ look.“No, you creep.”

“I meant furniture or any walls.”

“Yes, the wall, you creep.”

Hijikata opened his mouth and seemed to decide against it, Kondo jumping back in. “Sougo, get some rest. Toshi and Zaki-san will fill you in on your probation.”

The Vice Chief breathed deeply. “Jeez, you're a cop, not a vigilante. Don't go trashing anything else.”

“Well, as stands, Boss is more the vigilante than I,” he said it with a distaste only a survivor and instigator could have. The funny thing was, despite Kondo’s reassurances, the cheek he kept gnawing at left a bad taste in his mouth no matter what.

* * *

 

Her legs carried Kagura a respectable distance away from the arena as the cool air whipped into her face and wound.

Lucky for her, the single blow rendered the rest of the frog-imitations petrified. Unlucky for her, her gash from Onijishi hadn't subsided in the least.

On her way back to her residential home, a large space full of peeling trees and strong structures, Kagura slipped by the nearest convenience store, covering her right arm by angles alone. She rushed through the automatic-opening doors and ignored the upbeat pop music blaring through the speakers. It sounded the type of music Shinpachi listened to on repeat– _oh god, how would he react to what happened today?_

She stuffed her feelings deep down. With her free hand, Kagura pulled a handful of yen, her best estimate for a couple of bandages, and slapped it into the sunglasses-wearing cashier’s palm before rushing out of the store in one breath.

The sun was low in the distance and the cover of night upon Edo. Daytime shops bustled to their sundown closing time while nightlife revved itself up, hanging ready to pounce at the first opportunity to bring in the alcohol, parties, and lust.

Kagura leaned against the glass walls of the same store, her head rested against its cool contrast. Everything kept rushing back to her head and bleeding out of her arm. Her practiced fingers ripped the packaging and her teeth and left hand in coordination wound the gash until taut.

It was almost disgusting how similar she was becoming to Kamui before he came to his senses. _Is this what being yato means?_ She turned to stare at herself in the glass for the longest time before shutting her eyes.

Something in her pocket buzzed. Once, twice. Enough to snap her from her reverie and waves of guilt. Kagura started in the direction of her residence, it being in sight and not too far if she ran it.

On her way, Kagura emptied her pocket and glanced at the texts from the Baldy, explaining that was in a meeting with a leader in their home and that she was welcome to greet him whenever she decided to return from her shop.

Her beloved shop, her solace. The scents and art that Mami raised her in before Mami was forced to stay in the house for her health. It was a shame she closed early today for her stupid, stupid endeavors and hobbies at Rengokukan, the former she suspecting would shut down for good.

 _I suppose I’ll just open early tomorrow,_ she resolved as she entered jumped the lengthy walls and entered her home, nodding at the greetings from her fellow clan members.

Kagura stopped one of the older female yatos, one of her mother’s friends, and asked where to find the baldy. If she didn’t greet him soon, who knew what antics he’d pull to rip the world apart searching for her. Especially if he found out she closed the shop early.

“Oh, your father? He just arrived; your papi is in the next room over discussing something over with the–what happened to you?”

Oh, shoot, her arm.

“You know, burned myself a little with some the kettle water. It’s hard managing a tea shop all by yourself." Kagura chuckled empty and gestured to the newly sewn haori draped over Ama’s arm. Could I borrow that?”

The older woman looked Kagura up and down, un-seeming to believe her, then heaved a long sigh as she offered it to her. “Go ahead. I won’t tell your father, don’t worry. But don’t expect me to keep it from Kouka.”

“Thank you, Ama-san, I won’t forget this!”  

When she pushed open the door, a man with a trimmed beard and tan skin was seriously nodding as Umibozu seemed to sigh. He seemed pretty familiar...

“Ah, Kagura! How was the shop?” Papi noticed her presence a moment later, his exasperation evaporating. Kagura tugged her sleeve further down as she waved with her left hand. “This is Kondo Isao, the Shinsengumi leader.”

“Ahaha, hello there, Kagura-chan! Nice to meet–”

“Oh, you’re the hairy guy that stalks Otae at the cabaret.”

“Don’t go exposing a man like that!” This time, Papi’s eyes seemed to linger by her sleeve. The right one.

Kagura sub consciously stepped back and out of the room. He scrutinized her as Kondo seemed to make an effort to joke on the matter, Kagura already feeling the sweat drops rolling off her back.

Finally, Umibozu laughed at something Kondo said and turned to Kagura. “Nevermind that, you should get some rest. Tell your mother I’ll be staying a bit later with this fella over here.”

With a nod, Kagura closed the door.

* * *

 Like clockwork, Hijikata flicked his lighter on to light his fresh cigarette while the other hand steered their police vehicle. Before they hopped into the car, the older man inquired about how many more walls he punched open last night, to which Okita replied none. The hell does he care? Freaking control freak.

Thus began his briefing.

However, what Hijikata-san meant by tomorrow, he meant a vague, “Oh, right. You know Umibozu’s daughter? Watch over her in her tea store. Apparently, she's also been a bit of a troublemaker like you.”

 _..._ I couldn't _sleep the entire night for_ that _?_ Okita stared at the vice-chief, mentally grasping the dark-haired man's reasoning sending him home for a restless night only to wake him up for this. _Or maybe..._

“Why? What'd she do, illegal prostitution?”

The older man smacked him on the head and reprimanded him. “Quit being so narrow-minded! I'm willing to bet whatever it was that it's not your level of politics.”

After another round of lecturing him that "not all woman crimes are based on selling their bodies, this damn district does that anyway!" spiel, it pained him when the dispatch radio went off and Hijikata pulled their car over to a random café. There was no goodbyes or wishes of luck; Hijikata simply kicked Okita out and told him to meet one of their subordinates inside.

When he walked in, Okita almost wished he walked out as soon as his eyes landed on a familiar face. Hijikata left him in Yamazaki's–of all God-forsaken people’s–hands.

The older subordinate smiled and waved respectfully as usual then got straight to business.

The rundown as simple as Hijikata had put it: bodyguarding a girl in her own store. 

 _She must have lame security_ , Okita mused.

Though, more interestingly, he never expected the Shinsengumi to spare their first captain’s usual patrol or palace duties in favor of a clan's daughter. He thought his superior would have given him trash duty or something more demeaning enough to make him look defeated while kissing ass to the Tendoshuu.

Granted, the yato clan supported the shogunate fervently but that still left room for debate as to why tea had to be involved.

And yes, just tea.

Apart from that, he’d be throwing away better cases all for the yato clan, headed by Umibozu and Kouka of Kouan’s, suddenly relevant daughter. He’d heard about her countless times from the alien hunter himself but never bothered himself to God forbid, actually listen. The man showered praise endlessly about her as if he hoped the same sentiment would suffuse over to him when in reality, the only comment Okita could offer was about her fighting prowess, though funnily enough, he’d never encountered her or remembered her name. Ergo, he would have to visit the tea shop every day not out of his own volition but out of Shinsengumi orders.

At least, at the same time, he could kiss ass to Umibozu. For some reason, the alien hunter didn't take to his mayonnaise-exploding prank meant for Hijikata.

For the most part, according to Yamazaki, his role was straightforward. To visit a modest, red lantern adorned tea house and loiter there, Okita recalling Hijikata specifically giving him a “you do that anyway so should be simple enough” look back in the car. Here, under shoddy café lighting, Yamazaki simply read the details off his notepad without judgment. The most Yamazaki did was ask about his hand.

“She’s a real foreign beauty, daughter of a hot shot family you know?” Yamazaki looked at Okita as if he should’ve cared about her appearance before even seeing her himself; it was a job, not a booty call.

Yamazaki cleared his throat. “Anyway, she’s being watched by the Tendoshuu–”

“Why’s she that important?”

“–and Soyo-hime’s worried her friend will get dragged into the palace’s most recent politics. Her family has Amanto influence being yato.”

"Why are the Tendoshuu after another Amanto clan?"

Yamazaki munched on his bread, shrugging. 

“Yato, huh? That's some formidable race,” Okita said, his eyes not leaving the wall he stared at from behind him, mockery evident in his voice, “but their daughter can’t hold against political opponents. The Tendoshu were not happy with my involvement in Rengokukan’s underground world. I’m not about to make things worse for Kondo-san or the Shinsengumi.”

He recalled his covert investigations in the underground arena with the Yorozuya consisting of the Shimuras and their leader. An outsider, according to Matsudaira, had been up there before Gintoki. While the mysterious figure fled the scene before Okita and his backup arrived to witness the fallout, the consequences of his miscalculations, he stepped on the Tendoshuu’s toes too hard to un-account for.

Unfortunately for them, the Tendoshu continued their operations and forced Matsudaira’s hand to ignore the fighting ring.

Getting probation and wasting his days drinking tea was lousy but certainly not enough karma he deserved.

And then there was the case of the Odd Jobs’ leader, Sakata Gintoki, imprisoned someplace unknown to them.

Inhaling a breath, Okita warded off the possibilities behind Boss’s capture.

“On the books, it’ll say you’re taking paid leave as a result of that incident. This is what we’re doing as Shinsengumi, not puppets to the Tendoshu,” the assertiveness in Yamazaki’s voice was surprising but honorable. His otherwise no-name, faceless brand imparted greater weight. Perhaps Yamazaki was more aware than he previously thought. “Vice-Chief Hijikata told me to tell you to dress in your regular attire but not to retire your sword. Discreetly. Very wise advice if you ask me. Oh, and Umibozu specifically asked us not to reveal we’re watching her unless it's dire. He said she'd probably throw a fit.”

Okita raised a single brow at that. Then why were they going this far and covert for a single woman who didn’t even want their help?

“She seems prideful, actually. So I’d be careful not to reveal yourself to her so soon. This is Umibozu’s daughter…”

“Even if she’s all-that, you still haven’t told me her name. You know, in case his daughter is as crazy as him and I have to write her name in my blood,” Okita deadpanned, ignoring the horror that crossed his subordinate’s features.

“If you’re going to be a regular there, might as well flirt for it. Kidding,” Yamazaki squeaked out the punchline at the deathly glare shot his way. “Hijikata-san specifically told me not to divulge certain things for the success of this operation. But her name? That was to mess with you.”

“So you’re going to listen to Hijikata-san and ignore your Captain’s own orders?”

“I’d like to think that I’d love to answer you, Captain Okita, but the Vice-Chief already confiscated and held my anpan for ransom before you could, so if you think about it, it’s not really my fault–”

“Guess I’ll just find that robot maid and tell her all the nasty, _oily_ things you’ll do to her.”

“O-oily?! What does that even mean?” Okita heard the spy’s boots thundering against the pavement toward him. Yamazaki must have realized that Okita started walking away in the direction of Snack Otose. He could already see the sign in view. “Captain Okita, w-wait a second!”


	3. Sencha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll post in October," the author said and here she is three months later.
> 
> Many thanks to the wonderful [ Shay ](http://lowsugi.tumblr.com/) and akelyokikagu for beta reading!

 The glass sharply met with the wooden bar and at the same time, Otose’s firm palm smacked Kagura’s head.  
  
“Oi, you rich brat!” Kagura rubbed the sore spot while the older woman filled her glass. “If you were just going to order an apple juice, don't go smashing my dishes, idiot!”  
  
Kagura opened her mouth to complain, but when Catherine emerged from the back, her fist punctuated the air above her in victory, her mouth running like a motor. “You tell her, Otose-san! Put her in her place!”  
  
“You can't talk, you Zombrows!” Kagura dipped her cup in her direction and leaned further in her stool. Although it'd been awhile since she visited Snack Otose last, Catherine had the same amount of squawking as then. She inhaled a breath and glanced around, solidifying that at least Snack Otose was still here.  
  
Yesterday had been too long of a night. Knowing Otose would be up at the crack of dawn, along with Catherine and Tama, Kagura couldn't stop herself from going back to where she first befriended everyone.  
  
Kagura jolted as Catherine slammed a rough palm against the bar, rolling her sleeve up in combat. “HAH? I'll kick you out, you want that?”  
  
“Shut up and leave me alone! I haven't been here for ages, you crusty hag!” Kagura vigorously shook her head. She downed the rest of her juice–it was the only thing the old woman Otose would give to her for free instead of an entire rice cooker as a price for her absence. After a while, Kagura laid her head against the counter, her thoughts drowning as she thought about what to tell Otae and Shinpachi.  Softly, cradling her cheek against the warming glass, Kagura stared at the rack of alcohol past everyone’s gaze. “...can't I sit here and mope?”  
  
“That apple juice is poor for fake tears, y’know,” Catherine said half-heartedly, poking Kagura’s hair. Before Kagura could swat her prying hand away, the other woman beat her to it.  
  
The silence of a fan buzzing with the morning insects dragged. Just as Kagura felt as though the hardwood became as soft as cushions, an easy escape to dreamland, Otose suddenly nudged the younger girl’s elbow.  
  
“Don't feel guilty,” Otose took a long drag of her kiseru as she cracked the window open by the edge. When Kagura met her gaze, the old lady chuckled, but her mouth remained firm. “You're thinking about that guy, right? He wouldn't want you to feel guilty though I can’t say he's not expecting you to bust him out. But he wouldn't want you to feel guilty.”  
  
That reminded her to visit Soyo later this week.  Kagura exhaled deeply. The world wasn't ending, there was at least hope that the former and deceased Rengokukan champion’s kids found a place at a reputable orphanage.  While dire and teeming with premonition, her situation danced on the edge of dangerous possibility _._

She hated to admit it, but the hag was right...there was no time to waste feeling sorry. She’d get back up again.  
  
“Now get the hell out! You chase away every hungover perv that walks in here! I’m trying to scam people here and you know damn well what that’s like!” Kagura was shoved out of her seat and urged to the door, Otose half-heartedly pushing against Kagura’s back. Taking in sorry widows or angry housewives had been her business while Otose relied on the disgruntled men trapped in said housewife-worker marriages. For a time, they bonded over their business ventures whenever Kagura used to stop by.  
  
Once Kagura’s foot was halfway between the door, Otose shook her head, a small, reassuring, and granny-like half-smile made its way on her features.  
  
“Besides chasing away my business, you should get out and face your fears, brat. They're not so bad unless you let it be the end.”  
  
Kagura nodded. _No way am I going to let it then._ Tama happened to find Kagura’s gaze and lock down on it as if seeming to read through even the subtlest of her gestures, and as if Tama was letting Kagura in on something, too: there's a way to fix this.  
  
That in itself seemed to be enough to lift her spirits. It had to.

* * *

Okita dressed in a pale haori, cordovan top, and darker trousers, all his usual casual wear he rarely donned. He stepped out of his room and immediately the men up for Hijikata’s morning routine did the ‘stare and look away quickly out of etiquette’ custom whenever something explosively newsworthy happened in the compound. The last time this happened, Hijikata's sword snapped into two in the heat of battle. 

_Somehow that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth..._

They had the tact to salute, a group of his subordinates rising for their early practice stopping dead in their tracks to greet their first captain. No one said anything, and he didn't bother changing that. Today, he had the world to receive him.   
  
The sun barely peeked high enough to signal the morning. Kabukicho roused from its hangover, store owners dusting off their porches and flipping their signs to ‘open’.  
  
He strolled in from the east-end, but the traditional building with a menu posted outside and lanterns yet unlit around the entrance told him to stop.  
  
It wasn't anything new to him. He passed by this particular shop daily, though before, he had no reason to stop, relax, and drink.  
  
But not even that, _On top of palace duties I have this to do._  
  
So far nothing conspicuous about the place; it was as common as a bar opened on every block. Kabukicho predisposed all types of establishments and entertainment.   
  
Okita scratched his neck.  
  
The most suspicious thing actually, was the very fact the Shinsengumi’s first captain was at a tea house _for a girl._  
  
“Wait…” Okita blinked as quickly as images of a certain gorilla commander hiding in booths and bins at a cabaret flickered across his mind’s eye. Crap. Kondo had successfully duty-bound him to his gorilla life mission. _Does that make me some stalker bottomfeeder now?_  
  
“You freak, you're loitering around my store. Let me through.”  
  
A redhead with an azure cheongsam shouldered past him, assessing him in a glance. An umbrella collapsed from its usual, structured shape to fully uncover her face, a caress of soft features down to the nose.  
  
Well, Yamazaki certainly was right. The yato pushed the door open and nodded for him to enter first. Deep blue eyes with a glint of charisma in them.   She’s got some looks. Though had he seen her somewhere before?  
  
There was that ...and the bandage running around her forearm. Definitely not the work of clumsiness or shallow injury, judging by the thick, worn gauze that left no room for wound exposure. It drew him to stare at his own row of red flesh tears hidden by an overlapping white.  
  
“Oi, did you hear me?” her snappish voice interrupted his observations. “I know I’m a lot to drink in but I’d rather be doing that knowing I’m open for business.”  
  
“You really think highly of yourself, don’t you? I don’t see a lot of people lining up for this place,” he returned her eye roll with a smirk he hoped she’d find mischievously charming.  
  
It didn’t work at all. That narrowed her type down to women not from the cabaret down the street from Kondo’s stalker victim.  
  
Instead, she snorted in response. A waking-the-dead, unladylike one she didn’t bother to conceal. She muttered something he couldn’t hear and paused.  
  
The longer he assessed their silence and her suddenly faraway gaze, he could nearly see into a mirror from the past, a similar hesitance in verbal and body language he mimicked the other day following the incident.  
  
He only hoped it was a two-way street of competition rather than a product of make-believe. Otherwise, Kondo was right about Sougo needing a proper break, including from his nightly palace duties.  
  
“That’s not for someone who has better things to do to worry about.” Her eyes settled near his hip, searching for a blade that wasn’t there. Then his own wrapped fist. She didn’t strike him as calculating in the least, but familiar with her guarded stance. The brevity of her hesitance passed and the redhead opted to welcome herself into her establishment first.  
  
Craning her neck to raise a brow at him, she asked, “Are you coming in or not?”  
  
It hit him, then, their brief passing-bys at the palace. So this is Princess Soyo’s friend...but there was something more to her that didn't solely fit that description.  
  
“Not,” he replied dripping with sarcasm, giving her place a once over. Okita followed closely behind despite her snarky reply, scoping out the gradual fortissimo of Kabukicho mornings to his back. If Umibozu’s daughter was this young, there really was no plausibility in attacking her; then again, the Tendoshu needed no defense for anything they did.  
  
For the millionth time that week, Okita chased away plaguing ill thoughts about Rengogukan.  
  
Instead, he raised his chin up as he pretended to inspect the place like he were in an art exhibit he was horribly feigning interest in. Three-run of the mill paper-wood walls with windows to let the breeze in, the fourth one displaying an artfully done illustration of a winding blossom tree in spring. Above the entryway from where they came, a wind chime rung the morning breeze’s song.  
  
The redhead rolled her eyes at him as she pulled a window open for more light and walked past several low tables and cushions to the half-obscured back, where she started organizing kettles and dishes.  
  
She definitely seemed like a proper daughter, not at all a troublemaker, and that thought partly disappointed him.  
  
He pried his attention from her and dedicated himself to examining the room. “So you serve tea?”  
  
He skimmed a finger over the wooden table, inspecting for dust.  
  
Irately, she retorted back after a loud clang of kettles being shifted around. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”  
  
Okita held his tongue. Moments later, without care or expression, he chose the table closest to the counter, pretending to peruse through the selections.  “I’ll take a sencha tea then.”  
  
She stared at him for so long he swore her eyes nearly shot beams at him, clearly not missing his flippant speech. A couple of cups nestled in her palm from her earlier rearranging. Time dragged as he anticipated a reaction from her.

“Well?”

The yato’s laser beam vision wouldn’t let up, her concentration solely hellbent on forcing Okita to eat his words. Luckily for him, years of ignoring Hijikata's orders conditioned an obstinate trooper under the line of fire.

He saw the precarious cup hanging on the edge seconds before it leaped.

It slipped from her grip soundlessly. Her breath caught between a gasp and cuss, with only full hands to catch it. To his chagrin, she angled her hand below the ceramic for the perfect landing pad possible.

But it was the _chink_ of a cracked vein worming itself into one of the white cups that made her stop short, the yato sighing in defeat.

Okita swore that the snicker that followed was one-hundred percent on purpose.

“You punk, thanks for nothing.” She slowly set the cups down, too concentrated on keeping them pristine to give him the courtesy of a glare. “You really get a kick out of this.”

“In my defense,” Okita shrugged, “I can't help but sit back and enjoy people’s torture.”

“You're a black-hearted sadist.”

He tutted. “How about that sencha?”

“You’re impossible,” she turned away. "Give me a minute.”  
  
The redhead disappeared into a back room curtained by a short cloth. A few ticks of the clock passed and she emerged with a haphazard apron thrown over her dress and a clean, iron teapot.  
  
“Woooow,” Okita drawled out bored, putting weight against his arm on the low table, “am I glad to have come here.” He scanned her head to toe, definitely not expecting any surprises.  
  
She threw wood beneath the stove before switching on the fire. “This is a casual tea shop, not a cabaret or club. I can easily report you for harassment.”  
  
A long silence settled. The only noise among them became the steady crackle the pot gave into and eventually, the steam that punctuated the air. From beyond the counter where she stood, Okita trained his eyes on her curiously. Was she really a political game changer?  
  
Before he knew it, the redhead strolled over to where he sat. She sat down across from where he was and set up his cup and platter. The sweet and aromatic scent of the sencha tea leaves permeated the air as if the morning became alive and too real to juxtapose to anything else. When she seemed to pour enough and pushed his cup towards him, he considered it to be the end of their first-day conversation.  
  
To his surprise, she made herself comfortable, shifting her legs beneath her in seiza position. Again, the redhead shot him a withering glare. “Don’t get the wrong idea, punk, I’m just bored waiting for you to finish your tea.”  
  
Okita cued an eye roll.  
  
“But I was wondering,” there was a curious lilt to her tone and a gentle innocence emerging onto her face that his irritation dissolved. “Don’t you have a job? Usually, samurai are on duty since early morning. Nobody has time for a bunch of leaves soaked in water besides women and children.”  
  
“My sister made a lot of it,” and instantly pulled back once it registered. It made things worse when she seemed to look at him for a beat longer than normal for strangers to regard the other.  
  
He sipped his tea absentmindedly pretending it was nothing. Whatever means possible to get her to trust me, he rationalized. He needed to shake the topic and vulnerability creeping up on him.  
  
He rolled his shoulders. “Why do you think I’m a samurai?”    
  
“I don’t know. Feel like I’ve seen you around.” She made a noise that seemed to strike him as between a frustrated squeal and a grunt. “That and you’re typical: cocky and high-and-mighty.”

Okita resisted a smirk–she was right on both fronts.  
  
“Stellar customer service. You really do have some spot-on small talk, _China girl_ .” He quirked a brow when her palm hit the table with the most blase look crossing her face the same instance he called her ‘China girl’. Okita figured out the reason why a second later when the remaining boiled tea splashed out from his cup onto his arm, a cruel immolation.  
  
He continued cursing until he patted the heat’s initial burn away, drawing his partially-soaked sleeve into his lap as the redhead tsk’d at him, pretending to look at her nails when really, she was covering up a snicker.  
  
Goddamn, maybe she was the more mischievous of the two of them. _Like I’d let her be top dog when I'm supposed to be looking out for her._  
  
“Alright, alright. You’ve got me all figured out, China,” he conceded the truth while opening a palm to her. “Your turn. Offer something about yourself to break even.”  
  
She retorted instantly and blandly. “I owe you nothing, you self-entitled prick. This isn’t a date or an interrogation. I’m here to rob you with smuggled tea while judging you. Then you’ll go on with your life knowing a stranger thought you were lame.”  
  
_Oi, be careful with what information you tell others, idiot._ He noticed the smug pull of her lip as she looked at him like she had the upper hand in rejecting him. _If I wasn’t busy helping you out I’d be putting you in handcuffs right about now._  
  
Though he could get used to the easy smirk grinning too proud over nothing. If he was going to waste away his time in her grandma-smelling shop, he had to find entertainment in the little things.  
  
“Guess I’ll have to do my best to convince you every day then. I’ve got tons of free time.”  
  
A look crossed over her fair face and he shamelessly reveled in her cursory shock. He nearly forgot that they had gone on an entire morning's exchange without each other’s name. While Yamazaki’s crass advice might have worked if Okita felt like it or if this Chinese cosplayer had been less wary, he would have broken out the romantic language about her porcelain skin or delicate but empowering features. The typical shallowness that came with the flirting game. But with her...Okita observed her tilt her chin higher in search for leverage.  
  
He settled for the simple bait-and-catch. A taunt, for once in his life, would serve him just fine.  
  
Okita nudged the teacup towards her. “It’s Okita, for your information. But it’s master for you, China girl.”  
  
She scoffed and unfolded her arms from her chest. This woman was no masochist, indeed, shutting off his advances instantly. He was certain that if he wasn't her customer, she would've obliterated him with a punch. Or maybe not, but he was eager to test the limits of her strength.  
  
“More like 'Sadist' to me,” she paused to consider her next move, finally settling on a weary sigh and ghostly smirk as if to say, ‘fine, I’ll accept your challenge if it means your business.’  “And that’s Kagura to you.”

He hid a flinch. Maybe he was terrible at recalling faces, or maybe he lost his touch since the Odd Jobs Boss's arrest, but the name finally aligned with everything about her. Okita absentmindedly rubbed a palm over his bandaged fist, inwardly cussing Hijikata and Kondo to hell for keeping it from him, the smallest detail that cleared the cloudy, niggling thought that _I’ve seen you somewhere else before._

He knew where. Of course, there.

Everything went back to Rengogkukan.


	4. Bancha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I UPDATED. Thanks for coming to read this once again. I had a lot of fun writing the middle portion of this! Aaand, a thousand thanks to [ Shay ](http://lowsugi.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading and being helpful with her encouragement/pointers! Wall of italics upcoming is a flashback. fyi: Next update's going to be awhile.

The weekend permitted her to open at later hours, effectively deterring her away from her most prying, persistent customer ( _effing Okita Sadist or whatever the hell is first name is)_ yet welcoming in the orphans, the children--just kids caught up in a maelstrom, dying to move on with life.

On her way to the orphanage, a mother and son fought about how he stayed past his curfew, the scene nearly halting her entirely. Kagura trudged past the scene, the shouting and stomping none of her business and merely modicum of her trip–or so it should have been. Her stride less wide and subtle, she eavesdropped the situation and couldn’t help but snort; the teen was an outright brat.

She wasn't one to overthink, but lately, what else was there left for her to do? Estranged memories liked to resurface as they do, the siren pull of everyday Kabukicho at fault for her reminiscing. 

When her brother first left, disinterested in the monotony Earth endeavored to repeat day by day, he said he was going to be his own version of strong, the picture of everything Papi failed to do for his family, his clan. Before her mother died, Kagura would have trusted Papi completely, a daughter’s faith translating as filial love for a whole, hard-working family.

But no matter how hard she could love, Kamui was still the “courteous”,  deviant bastard, waiting until the day after Mami’s funeral procession, a clan-wide, Tokugawa-felt affair of the clan’s leading woman’s loss, to abandon them.

 _She woke abruptly to the storming in the corridors. Her eyes felt heavy as a consequence of staying up late, crying, but they snapped open at the characteristic yells of her proverbial, angry brother and unequivocally upset father._  

_Leaping to her feet and adjusting her shirt, she followed the shying gazes of her clan members towards the front of their residence, spotting a bald head sprinting to meet Kamui before he reached their gate._

_“You gave us a life to be groomed dolls for a dying family. Mami came here to die a lauded political tool because of you. Was she just someone to love when convenient, like how you bother visiting your family when you feel lonely?”_

_She had to slow down after hearing the downright controversy her brother ventured to expose, right there, in their courtyard, in the ironic beauty of an aubade._

_The steel in Papi’s voice is unmissable. “You better watch yourself, Kamui.”_  

_By the time Kagura caught up with them, Kamui shoved Papi against the wall, no less forgiving in dispensing his venom in voice and glower. It did nothing to snuff out the dangerous edge to her papi’s calm._

_Kagura stepped closer to them. “Quit it you two–right now. I swear you’re waking everyone up!”_

_Papi started to reassure Kagura, to tell her to let them handle this themselves, but Kamui cut in, thundering with verbal punches._

_“Right, and whenever you were going ‘out’ it wasn’t to leave us so you could find a way to burden Mami even more. You brought her here to build up the yato clan, not destroy it, but she’s dying because you’re too stubborn to let her live.”_

_“It’s for you! It’s for everyone in our clan, Kagura, your mother.... Earth is where we’ve always dreamed of going and I brought her here because it’s what we wanted to do, to find freedom and make sure everyone else here has that same right!”_

_“Always the diplomat, the alien hunter, the yato male patriarch before a husband and father, huh? Telling us to be strong by ourselves while we take care of Mami. What a hypocrite, as if anyone’s meant to live forever when they’re forced to die slowly because someone was feeling lonely.”_

_Kamui didn’t touch Papi more than he already was, but Kagura swore it was as if Kamui punched him in the gut._

_“I made a mistake. It wasn’t as simple as that, Kamui.”_

_“Che. You’re nothing but mistakes. I used to think you were so strong but look at you. The mother of your kids died after years of working so hard and now…” Kamui’s arm fell away from pinning his father to the wall, his head shaking, his legs moving backward. “Now you’ve lost me.”_

_The hurt on her Papi's face, at that moment, was that of a man who might as well lose everything._

_But I’m still here, Kagura thought._

_“Kamui, stop. Where are you even going to go? You bastard!” She whirled around to the man pressed against the wall. “ Papi, say something!”_

_“Kagura, it’s going to be tough, but I need you...I need you to stop going to Odd Jobs and focus on the tea house and your duties.”_

_“You’re not 12 and free to do as you please. You’re 16 and I would hate to lose you too. The clan will need your leadership, eventually.”_  

A glint by the upcoming building pulled Kagura from her thoughts. She spotted the orphanage at the skirts of the district, a shoddy townhouse in need of a few repairs by the windows and door frames. 

But it was a home for kids, so it had to hold itself together. Her boot nudged a tin can, probably from another round of the kids playing somewhere in the street.

Momentarily, she thought of Gintoki. Shinpachi. The Yorozuya. For a while, she unpacked her hard work and heart under an ostensibly rent-free home, despite her messy home and political life, she had another place to go. When that shattered, when responsibilities piled on too high, Gin-chan pushed her away.

Yet here they were, a year later, and she was scheming to bring him back.

Kagura kicked a can. An expert, trained kick. The metal glinted in the sun and soared in an arch over to the other side of the building.

“Ouch!” She jolted at the whining, bemoaning grunt. A chorus of cackling runts stampeded into view, Kidomaru’s orphans a mixed bag of stunned and impressed.

“Look! It's the other lady who wanted to help us!” A petite girl in pigtails raced towards her, three other boys and girls sprinting behind her.

“Big sis, you found our can!”

The oldest boy rubbed at a suspiciously large bump on his head. “Why did you have to kick it so hard?!”

“You've seen her fight, stupid, what did you expect, a baby’s attack?”

Before she knew it, a herd of them had their arms thrown around her legs and waist. A smile worked its way involuntarily up her features and amongst the giggling braids and cowlicks, even if Rengogukan elicited the roughest of nights for her, taking care of Kidomaru’s kids would never burden her.

Kagura raised the plastic bag in her hand, teasing them with the convenience store goodies and board games she scrounged from around her house.  Yeah, life didn’t have to be so bad, not when she had these guys to mess around with. The thought quickly dissipated as the rosy-cheeked, pigtails girl made a power grab for the bag, dashing towards their home in a chase after her antics, Kagura could feel the calm before the storm…

Especially now, feeling a crow’s eyes behind her back.

* * *

It plagued Okita for days, recalling the few fights Kagura involved herself in at Rengogukan. It neither hindered his conversation or banter with her, their name-calling escalating the more he picked on her hairdo of the day or how slowly she would pour his tea, but it continued to linger at the back of his mind, an unshakeable feeling returning the longer he remembered the long-discarded winding bandages running along her arm.

He returned the next following days without incident, laid-back and quick-tongued as usual, ordering another sencha–her had to admit, her brewery and leaves weren’t half-bad–as he did the first day. The China girl took it in stride, seeming to keep their unspoken challenge of sorts true to her word as she flickered her gaze over as though he were a mosquito, welcoming him with, “oh, so you do like my tea, sadist,” and the resounding clack of the ceramic cup. 

The crack from the other day, difficult to miss, glared back at him.

Okita trailed the skyward blemish to the connecting arm, and her obscured wound, once thick gauze wrapped around her arm, was subject to a single strip around what he suspected as the main site of injury. Yato abilities must’ve certainly aided her in the arena.

“You’re going to swallow flies with the way you’re gawking at me.”

Clutched in between her hands was the iron pot from yesterday. Kagura must have already prepared some sencha, perhaps the customers across the room were as basic as he was when it came to sampling new tastes. Considering he arrived later than usual, never being the punctual type for duty, that circumstance made more sense than the kinder, less coincidental one he brewed in the recesses of his mind.

“Are you sure I’m not already looking at a dung beetle?”

“I said a ‘fly’, not a dung beetle!”

He tsked. “That’s not right, China girl, have you seen your penile headwear? You’re begging to be made fun of. Looking like a piece of shit must be hard.”

“It really must be.” She shifted the teapot in her palms as her stance followed, unyielding to his comebacks. Then an eagerness flashed across her tight-lipped grin. “Being a shithead must warrant some type of permanent castration in the–I don’t know–the baby-making region?”

Yatos are dangerous, Okita decided. Sincerely, thoroughly, hauntingly dangerous.

But that didn’t change the fighting stances befitting her Chinese-knockoff image, a battle style once witnessed every so often at Rengokukan. They were smaller fights, the ones where death wasn’t a pre-requisite or requirement; only mortality’s shadows clung to the bloody and beaten men when she was through.

He watched her fill his cup before attending to another customer brightly.

Confronting Kondo or Hijikata was an idea–Yamazaki, maybe even easier to handle. But no, surrendering his knowledge he neither knew they shared or were kept in the dark about could blow the Shinsengumi deeper into darker waters and hypothetically, if the Tendoshu were onto them, undoubtedly, it’d be long before they found out about her.

Well, if the world didn’t fuck with him before, it certainly was now.

At the palace that same night, he reasoned an untouchable for the Tendoshu was within the ornate gates and heralding the country in their quiet, influential ways only a figurehead could possess–the Tokugawa family line.

Now, he _really_ was on his last legs of life if he dared involve the princess, at a time of her political career beginning to take a foothold, germinating under the Amanto-Earthling rule.

So he had to, as best he could, to be vague. He found his opportunity when the Mimawarigumi swordswoman and vice-chief had him relieve her of watching over the princess, the only police protectorate protocol they would ever begrudge with abiding by was following through with simple orders. His was to attend to the princess, and hers was to the guardhouse tonight, the Mimawarigumi growing interested in the Tokugawa affairs as of late.

With the princess a stride ahead of him, her brother’s tea tray in hand, empty.

Okita should have known that no matter how he went about it, her friend would pick up on exactly what he was implicating.

“Huh? What about Kagura-chan?”  Soyo blinked at Okita, silvery and skeptical all at once as she slowed her stride to address her bodyguard. Okita ignored the privy looks passing officials and officers horribly concealed his way, rethinking his timing with the early evening’s palace routine. The parsimony from the white-clad officers was palpable, but Okita urged forward, nodding slightly enough for Soyo to follow his request.

“Okita-san,” Soyo pressed while Okita sorted out his explanation,  “since when did you know who she was? You’re not the type...rather, her type.”

“I’m offended you think so, Princess.”

A stretch of pride adorned her face despite his biting retort. “More like your affinity for masochists aren’t a secret, Captain, and Kagura-chan is no submissive.”

 _That,_ Okita remembered his exchange with her the previous night, ending in her uppercutting him the second she closed up shop over a comment he made about her dress being work inappropriate, _is an understatement._

“She was close to the Odd Jobs leader,” Okita said slowly, nonchalantly, hands stuffed into his pockets. “That’s interest enough.”

Soyo swallowed hard, not daring to meet his gaze with her own, her form surprisingly steady.

Her hands shifted on her tea tray as if there were no comfortable positions possible under the warm kettle and her brother’s cup. Okita could already imagine the types of conversations the princess and yato shared, swapping techniques or whatever it was tea aficionados talked about.   

“Ah, so this is about Gintoki. So you know she hung around there, too,” Soyo said, her voice quiet enough for the two of them to hear.  It wasn’t a question, Okita picking up on the private nuances of her whisper.

He opened his mouth to respond but promptly closed it, realizing the palace traffic had picked up.  

Servants brushed passed them, unaware of the princess’ presence, as they brought armfuls of food trays to the neighboring ward, their lanterns held aloft in case the oranges of the sunset succumbed to darkness early. Okita recognized the wider corridor and bustle ahead–they arrived at the central hall.

The princess turned into the room with loud clinking and water running–the kitchen. She kindly thanked the dishwashers and chefs for their hard work as she passed, dipping her head and torso in that way royals are supposed to. Poised, graceful, sincere.

The head chef, bushy-browed and ambivalent in expression after greeting the princess as he gestured to her hands. “Here to drop off your brother’s dishes?” At Soyo’s nod, the greying, bushy eyebrows man grunted, taking the tray from her. “Jeez, the shogun may be this country’s head, but his sister shouldn’t have to shoulder his chores.”

Soyo laughed, and they continued to exchange pleasantries as Okita silently stood at attention by the door. He noticed the extra pile of ceramic plates in the sink, wiped clean of food from a large party, no doubt.

“Brother’s meeting with another faction tonight. It had something to do with them,” the princess answered. Okita stood upright at Soyo’s return, the princess no longer wearing the sweet smile she gave to her staff. He understood all the same, that her animosity was far from being directed at him. Soyo started towards the outside, intending to retire to her quarters soon. Okita snagged a lantern from a servant passing by, lighting it as he walked her.

When they reached the next building in the ward, Soyo properly stopped. “That’s low of you, going through her friend to pin it on her.” Strangely, she stayed calm. She lifted her eyes to Okita, intensely serious but searching for sincerity. “But that’s not your intention, is it?”

“I’m only trying to figure out why my superiors assigned me to protect your friend as my punishment,” Okita replied, honest. By the flash of understanding and calculation in the princess, Okita wondered if there was more to her own network of knowledge than he accounted for.

Soyo contemplated this, pausing to raise a palm to her cheek. A moment of thinking later, she took the wood and bamboo lighting from him, lifting it in the space between them. “Tell you what,” her eyes wide, she began her proposition, “I’m tired of these alien imports my servants pick out for me. They’re not bad, but between you and me...sometimes, they are. Are you okay with being a delivery boy?”

As a practical joker in the most grave of situations, he didn’t understand the punchline. “Princess, now’s not a good time to be making jokes. Is that really safe?”

“Oh no, I’m completely serious. I’m willing to risk it,” she said. “If you could bring her a container I give you to her every week, have her fill it, and return it to me. Can you do that?”

Okita sighed. Soyo’s eyes brightened as if that were agreement enough, the lantern descending from their gaze and lowering by her side.

“Then I’ll happily let you in on something, Okita-san,” Okita’s ears perked at that and his eyes found a resoluteness to the princess’s face. “Keep Kagura-chan company; she’s the same as you are. She wanted to do what was right, and no one, like you, could predict what happened to her friend. I wonder...she must have uncovered some information to go berserk on a man like that.”

Soyo stopped herself there, interpreting the twitch in Okita’s expression as the end of information he knew. _So Onijishi...that was her doing?_ His mind recalled the innocence and mischief that belied cerulean eyes, the rise in her voice when she felt insulted, and her quick-tongue.

He struggled to keep a smirk from tugging at his lips. _So much for being a mundane client._ His job certainly got a lot more interesting, nevermind the plethora of questions Okita stored away for his superiors.

Hijikata would have a long date with the toilet by lunchtime, Okita predicted.

“Thank you, Princess. I’ll pick it up in the morning,” he bowed his head. “Good night.”

Its contents would be none of his business. He only hoped whatever they would exchange was benign but the longer he contemplated how little of the moon showed itself tonight, a new cycle beginning, the more he thought it impossible.

* * *

 If Soyo shared their conversation the previous evening to Kagura, she didn’t show it. It’d been days of skirting around bringing it up, how he had seen her participate in the underground matches herself before the spark that lit their lives on fire singed both their lives.

The princess had handed him a small, glazed piece of pottery, an ivory top and a tawny-opaque body hiding its insides. For her friend’s tea leaves, he presumed, an apparently exotically smuggled, a top-tier product only her yato friend possessed. 

Logically, the princess would appreciate the aromatic incense permeating the palace air and warming her throat as quality tea should, as soon as possible.

But he stalled. It wasn't his fault that the next day brought him a pedestrian incident.

To be more precise for his report, five days after his assignment (and one day since his talk with the princess) in the middle of a cool afternoon, a few customers seated as witness and victim.

* * *

The longer Kagura dared to settle her eyes and concentrate her brain power on the light-haired samurai, a new regular now strictly known as the sadist, the harder it was to shake off the deja vu about him. Now that they had grown more familiar with each other’s habits, she only thought it right to sort this out properly. She had to be vigilant.

 As far as a few days of acquaintanceship go, he wasn't the worst. Inventing new insults for each other seemed to be their way of passing the time.

 From across the table, she followed his movements as his fingers wrapped around the ceramic cup and he lifted an arm to down the contents--a characteristically sweet sencha again today-- after testing its temperature.

And she, testing where she swore she'd seen him before.

“Are you a celebrity in disguise?”

He smirked mirthlessly and leaned forward. “I look like one, don't I?”

The tight-lipped smile gracing increased his panache tenfold along with Kagura’s urge to punch him...tenfold.

“Yeah, your attitude answered that question.” Kagura shoved his face back, laughing when she heard him groan from the impact. She tried again, racking her brain for another obscure situation. “How about some street vendor I probably traumatized?”

The maverick parts of her might have accounted for the mistakes that led her underground, but an empty stomach and an uncooperative, tight-faced food vendor evoked even worse repercussions-- mostly involving a lost tooth and split cart.

_Man, those were the simpler days._

“Seriously, how are you not in jail?” Despite the accusation, he maintained a mildly straight face. Kagura struggled against all callings to throttle him until he spat whatever he really wanted to say out.  “And no.” Okita dipped his cup in her direction, signaling a refill as if his predictable answer was sufficient currency.

Presumptuous ass, she bit her tongue.

Kagura postponed his request with a little wave as she edged forward on her elbows, holding her breath, praying for success. “Okay, last try...an assassin.”

To say the least, it'd make sense if he was.

He considered something before sighing. “I'd definitely kill for you to shut up and refill my cup already.”

“Bingo, bitch!” She elbowed him in the throat, and even she felt that blow. He coughed, massaging his neck with a singular hand.

“Quit using words in the wrong context! You're the bitch here,” he glowered at her as he relaxed his arm.

“Nuh-uh, you can’t tell me what I do for self-defense with you loitering around here for one and a half weeks, waiting to strike!“

Lifting the teapot, Kagura tilted it to flow the redolent sencha into his cup.

“Oi, were you waiting to choke me for some time?--” He coughed and peered at her slyly. “–’cause that's real forward of you.”

She longed to murder him on the spot and dump his body in a river. Any river would do, it could even be the body of piss the drunks across the street liked to build up on a Saturday night.

Instead, she blew a loud sigh. “Ugh, you really weren't lying when you said you were a dirty samurai picked off from the street.”

Okita’s eyes flickered to something behind her, picking up on someone entering the tea house a second before she could register it.

Unguaranteed if the sadist caught her grumbling excuses, Kagura stood up, seemingly buoyant to greet the glasses wearing customer in her peripherals. Upon closer inspection, she nearly skidded to a stop with her heels. She paid no attention to how the twitch freezing the tight smile into permanence, steeling herself before fully confronting him.

Regardless of the umber barely concealed by his glasses, Shinpachi found it in him to shoot her a hospitable smile, the kind that halves the face, partly neutral, partly affable.

She folded her arms, forcing out an old playfulness to lilt her voice. “Glasses, if you came to drop off Big sis’s cooking out of the goodness of your heart, I’m calling you out on your bullshit.”

“You know how scary she gets about her cooking! It’s almost as scary as when you wrecked that yakisoba guy’s food stall once.”

They collectively shuddered at the whilom, mental image of Otae cracking her knuckles and emanating her pitch-black demon aura the last time Shinpachi tried talking Otae out from cooking dinner. At the second memory, nostalgia fleeted through both of their soft expressions, consequently replaced in seconds when Shinpachi eyed the flaxen-haired male two tables over.

He opened his mouth and decided against it in record time. A shake of the head later, he said, “I didn’t know Okita-san liked tea that much to come to a tea house.”

“I didn’t think that guy was popular enough for a nobody like you to notice him.” She ignored Shinpachi’s quick glare and shrugged as if to say, ‘but it’s true’. “But I don’t know, he came in one day like he owned the damn place and said from now on, he was going to be a regular.”

Her companion practically spat all over the table. “No way. Okita-san? A regular? That sadistic man? You know, sometimes he’s with Kondo at the cabaret.”

“So he really is an all-around terrible guy!”

“I’m not that far away, you two,” Okita said from his seat.

“Shut up, sadist!” Okita stuck out his tongue and took an interest in the newspaper he procured from a neighboring customer. He began to people watch, peering at a particularly busy square-jawed man on his cell phone. I swear, that guy has nothing better to do…

Kagura turned back to Shinpachi. “I’m not that surprised about that. Shinpachi, why did you really come here? To scold me like a mom?” At his surprise, Kagura pursed her lips–ironically enough, she wasn’t the one delaying the inevitable henpecking. “There’s no other reason for us to beat around the bush now that we’re here.”

“Fine. I wish you remembered us, Kagura-chan. Gin-san might have taken your yato clan duties too seriously, whatever, but he clearly still cared about what happened to you and what do you do? You go to an underground ring for who knows how long until we hear about you. The rumored yato, fighting low-level rounds to bloody up opening acts and entertain and for what? By the time we make it to find you, Gin-san’s a moron and gets himself into trouble!”

“I know,” she said quietly.

Shinpachi tightened in the grip his hands had on his teacup to the creases lining his forehead. All of this, Kagura realized, was out of pure concern, a concern she didn’t deserve.

“And Kagura-chan...you nearly killed a man out there.”

She stared at her hands. Red but not. In her peripherals, she could make out Okita’s red eyes surveying a point in the room as his gaze returned to her, urging her out of her reverie.

“Things are getting out of hand, and things with you, with everything, are not okay. I can’t sit by anymore, useless, and away...away from my friend.” Shinpachi released a long breath, “So...it’s okay. We’re okay and we will be, Kagura-chan, because Gin-san wouldn’t get wrapped in anything if he knows he can’t at least have a monthly fix of strawberry milk...or conning people out of their money like the scammer he is, right?”

“And finding an opportunity to make a dick joke.”

“Yeah,” Shinpachi finally grinned like he meant it, shaking his head at the floor. “Point is, Kagura-chan, we’re still Odd Jobs, no matter how short of a time we spent together. And I’m not going to lie, Big sis, Gin-san, and everyone...we understood, but we also all know Gin-san’s an ass needed to be kicked only by us, so…”

Awashed with newfound seriousness, he held Kagura’s gaze.

“I want to know what you’re planning.”

Anticipation, expectation, sentiments that were all well-warranted. She sighed in relief--his implied forgiveness lifted one of the many burdens on her mind, and as she gathered her wits, she was more than willing--no, committed--to enlisting all the help and companionship necessary to relieve the final burden of finding their friend.

Especially now, when they needed to sort through the heavy shit Renogugkan brought upon their lives, took away from it, and hailed new problems in dire need of being dealt. Kagura could open the discussion with her talk at Snack Otose, the auguring felt back at the orphanage or her potential ally within the palace. 

But she didn't have the chance. Kagura heard Okita shout something at her, but before she could snap back at him for raising his voice at her, a tight grip on her arm yanked her upwards and her body was shoved head and shoulders-first against the table. Everything spun and black flashed, but it didn't take too long to realize that this was very bad. Her forehead ached. She needed to slug a bitch.

The most parlous part of all was when she blinked and came to, glancing up to focus her vision, sighting the metal body of a gun trained to shoot Shinpachi’s temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Soyo and believe it or not, I love Shinpachi too.


	5. Puer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by and thank you again,[Shay](http://lowsugi.tumblr.com/), for being a supportive beta-reader! Leave me a comment on your thoughts, reactions, and/or feedback to let me know what you think of it. Enjoy!

Okita could kick himself. Indeed, the situation wasn’t at its most most dire, but the whole crisis would’ve been averted if he moved at the first sign of concern.

He forced himself to sit back down, acting as he drew attention away from the thumb that silenced but turned on the radio in his pocket in rapid succession until he left it back on. Whoever monitored his call better be capable. Meanwhile, the women across the room began their theatrics, unsurprising in Okita’s experience, but another hassle all the same. They hollered and cried as citizens in peril usually did in robbery situations. The child choked out a wail before bravely ducking underneath the table like their mother instructed, and Okita mumbled his location just as Shinpachi’s head connected to a gun.

Of everyone in her tiny shop, that had to be the best hostage for the gunman to take, and Okita couldn’t do a damn thing.

At least, not straight away.

Pinned underneath the man’s grip, the China girl groaned from the sudden collision, when table met forehead. It’d be a matter of time before she started sassing the attacker, and the square-jawed idiot would be none the wiser for choosing a yato’s store to rob.

But even if the yato clan’s daughter was yato, it didn’t make him feel any less useless, sitting there. His hand itched. I knew Hijikata’s orders to forget my sword would bite me in the ass… he thought about the entire situation in a flash, from the second Hijikata dumped him for his briefing with Yamazaki to the present,  all things considered, he did that on purpose.

Okita’s gaze flickered back to the apparent robber. He is strangely quiet, usually, robbers are as cocksure as they come...unless...

The China girl wrenched in the quiet robber’s hold. “Shinpachi, protect your glasses!”

 Oh, Okita could laugh.

Rolls of perspiration accumulated at the back of his neck. His hands were raised high above his head as he shook, a combination of shock and fear. “K-Kagura-chan is now really the time to use that gag?!”

“It’s the only time we’ll get! Quickly!”

“Don’t say such ominous things with a gun pointed to my head, oi!!!”

“It’s not my fault you triggered a death flag.”

The glasses wearing Odd jobs member heaved a weary sigh and grumbled, somehow more relaxed from their banter. It made sense if they really used to be so close.  “I try to do the right thing and it gets you killed apparently.”

“SHUT UP! Are you two friends or what?!”

A flash of clumsy weapon handling, an uncertain look past his shoulder. _There it is_. Okita ever the observant police officer caught depth to a seemingly mindless robber.

Conspiracies sure were fun.

He removed the princess’ container from his pocket and placed it safely on the floor. In case things turned on its head and got ugly.

Okita rose and the man’s gaze snapped to meet his, chaotic, and unsettled. Primal, unmotivated save for one, lone, daunting emotion mankind never failed to betray in widened eyes and quivering resolve.

Fear. And certainly not of a squirmish yato tea owner and her panicked, glasses-wearing companion.

“Do you have to yell so loud? You’re ruining my already shit tea.”

He felt her glare without looking at her. He must’ve interrupted their conversation, so he sent her a caustic thumbs up.

“Shoot him instead of Shinpachi, please,” she quipped from the table.

The man rolled his neck, his gaze feeling heavier the longer he scrutinized the girl under his grip. Even Okita had to confess, the way the gunman’s eyes narrowed opened up a new definition of ‘creepy’. “They did say you’d be bloodthirsty, but not like that…”

From where Okita was, he saw her bristle. The man’s eyes glanced between the two of them. Okita straightened his back. They needed to act. _Or sew this scrub’s mouth shut…_

“Seriously, Mister, calm down. Like I said, the tea’s shit here, so why don't you lazily rob someplace else? Or is it you're that much of an amateur?”

“Amateur?” He spat back a little too quickly. “Believe me, an amateur would not have been trusted to grab the money and go. I’ll have you know, this shithole’s worth lots to someone if trashed by an expert.”

Okita hid his smile. Undoubtedly, China was bursting at the seams, ready to smash his head in the second she figured out how to safely clock the gunman without jeopardizing Shinpachi.

“Well, most vandalists are prepubescents with too much free time or losers with nothing to lose.”

Shinpachi stumbled and fell down with a thud, groaning from being slapped by the hard metal. The gun barrel faced him now, a calculated redirection.

“Do I need to shoot you too?”

Okita exhaled a breath, eyes trained on the barrel that moved to greet him from a distance.  He refused to lock gazes with her, didn't dare jeopardize the yato’s movements. Imperceptibly, Okita’s mouth twitched to the right in an arrogant victory.

The safety clicked off.

She better understand in time.

“Actually,” Okita said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

And the gun went off. 

Soon enough, the women gasped, Shinpachi shrieked, and Kagura battle cried as she clenched the hand that dug into her hair and flung his body against the edge of the table.

Right. By. The corner.

Right in ‘the ultimate treasure of mankind’, as Kondo would say. His face also colliding with the floor to top it all off. 

He had to admit, that even hurt him to watch. If he were had a filament more of sympathy, Okita would have winced and shielded his eyes.  Sirens blared within reasonable distance now, and Okita had no doubt in his mind that he was going to give Hijikata a proper complaint about his response time.

 _Piss poor, -500/10 I think I'll rate it._ The women peeked from their table, pointing at Okita. He peered down at his sleeve. A bullet hole marked where it just missed his limb.

“Well. That solves that,” he blew a wolf whistle, strolling over to the robber’s twitching body. He shot acknowledgment at the China girl before he dug his heel on the man’s side, rolling him over to look into his battered face.

Time to identify if he was a real threat.

Okita’s voice lowered, taking on a darker edge only for the sniffling man could hear. “Wake a bit faster, loser, I want to know something. Had we been in a less unfortunate circumstance, I would have you dangling from the warehouse ceiling blade pressed to your tongue, me testing your ability to remain silent.”

He choked on his presumably repressed sob, eyes widening, searching for identification through face and diction alone. “You’re…" 

“Okita-san, please calm down!” Shinpachi scrambled to his feet, pushing off Kagura’s combination of hugging and punching, and hesitated to step closer to Okita. Kagura’s attention shifted from smothering Shinpachi, Okita breaking away from her curious gaze and seizing the former gunman’s terrified eyes all the way to the silver device sticking out in his pants.

“Your phone. Let me have it.” In between a broken sob, Okita wretched it from the man’s front pocket. He clicked around and pressed it to his ear.

Zilch.

A beat later, he threw it back on the whimpering man’s face. “Tch. Line’s dead. Who were you talking to?”

“Listen, I’m on your side! One struggling brother to a brother who’s made it, let me off, will you?”

A tentative touch feathered his shoulder. “Sadist, let the police do their job.”

“The police have leashes. Right now, I don't.” He stiffened immediately as the words left his mouth, his eyes tracing from the rough hand to Hijikata’s stern expression. Suddenly, the tentative touch felt searingly murderous with callouses of cage-like authority.

...While China stood right behind Hijikata. So it was Hijikata touching him. The universe sure knew how to pull the heinous wool over his senses.

“Not so fast. Raise your hands up, everyone,” Hijikata commanded, Okita not needing to look at him directly to feel his unsaid qualms. Shinpachi’s arms shot first into the air, the rest of the customers following, Kagura and Sougo the last ones to respond. “You too, Sougo.”

Behind him, Okita heard Kagura snort and ignored her wry comment about being a wanted man (“How did he know your name if you’re not a criminal?!”) at the same time he shoved Hijikata off.

“Who's hot shit now?” She taunted him without any reprieve in her scrunched up nose and glittering eyes as if she did not get hammered into her own furniture under the grip of a lousy robber.

With his foot, he nudged the fallen ceramic, perfectly intact, its contents a puddle collecting into the divvy in the floor where the criminal laid twitching.

“Ah, could it be you’re referring to this soggy cold thing?”

He hid his smirk when he heard her curse him out as he turned to Hijikata’s scowling face.

Hijikata gestured to the local police, blowing an obnoxious lungful of nicotine away from everyone, in the firm wave and usual boast about jail time they usually did while thwarting bottomfeeder criminals.

Everything went down smoothly,  the villain of the day was forced on his feet, a merciful officer offering to shoulder some of his weight as he hobbled outside, ducking into the police car.

When Okita turned back around, prepared for another snarky retort, Hijikata stepped forward and wrested for something at his side. Then, just like that, Okita blinked at the handcuffs clicking around his wrists.

Shinpachi made a noise between confusion and shock while Kagura snickered shamelessly. In all his years for knowing Hijikata, from the depths of his confessedly feigned loath for the man, Okita shot his most subtle glare at Hijikata.

“Now that’s just mean, Officer,” not an ounce of respect appeared in his tone. “There are better ways of engaging in basic conversation.”

* * *

It felt like those government hounds would never leave, touching everything, medics inspecting her and the rest of her customers, asking endless questions. If she wasn’t used to constant probing like the times Papi would do whenever he came home from a long trip, she definitely knew what being asked the same exact question five times over felt like now.

She almost wished she was as rowdy as the sadist, being arrested on the spot for throwing the guy’s phone in his face. At least Kagura beat him up _before_ the police showed up. Still, Kagura frowned subconsciously, was it because of the sadist’s familiarity with the Shinsengumi’s proclaimed vice-chief that he was arrested for something so petty?

Finally realizing that in the flurry of rattling Shinpachi knowing he was alive, she picked up the broom, sweeping away the result of a long day as they both affirmed the other was alive and decided to clean like nothing had happened. Stealing a demure, inquisitive glance Shinpachi’s way, she remembered the first time Shinpachi and Gin visited her here and how overbearingly clean-sensitive Shinpachi reacted to her poor organizational skills in the back.

But now, he had little to comment on as he wiped down tables and watched out for wooden splinters.

Then, Shinpachi asked,, “Does your head hurt?”

“No,” she said, now conscious of her frown. It wiped right off before she pointed a finger at him from across the room. “Worry about yourself, dummy, you were the one held at gunpoint for what felt like _years_.”

“ _Someone_ wouldn’t stop begging for him to shoot me! In retrospect, I should have known to calm down when you started acting bratty. You tend to get full of yourself fast. ”

Kagura straightened her back and flipped the broom, the wooden end reverberating with a slam against the floor.

“I'll rip your pubes.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

Shaking her head at her friend, Kagura felt a tiny smile escape her as she continued sweeping away broken tea cups from the customers from earlier. When she looked across the room after Shinpachi pointed out something he claimed the sadist left behind–ugh, he really knew how to push her buttons, even in a crisis situation–she started to blink twice to confirm the white object’s origins. A thought crossed her mind and there was no going back from it if it meant what she thought it meant. In the middle of Shinpachi musing about missing the days when Gin-chan and he would laze around her store on the weekends and then they would all agree to bum at the Odd Jobs office on select weekdays when there weren’t any job requests, Kagura gathered the quaint pottery and readjusted her bun that had come undone from her rushed fixing earlier.

Abruptly, she cut off his spiel, “Hey, could you do me a favor and cover the store for the rest of the day?”

Shinpachi perked at this and held up a sodden towel from something he must’ve spilled on the counter. “We still have to come in for questioning though…” He said contemplatively until he fully raised his gaze, properly sighting Kagura nearly successfully escaping out the window, an ivory-colored container in hand.  “Wait, wait, I didn’t agree to anything, you know!”

“I’ll explain later,” she hopped off onto the street and shouted back into the open shop, ignoring his protests. “Like I said, close it for me! ”

* * *

The palace always felt different in the evening, and on this particular night, with Soyo whisked away to a private meeting, Hijikata forced him in on normal palace duty. As if he weren’t a Shinsengumi first captain, but whatever, logistics this, getting exposed for involvement in Rengogukan and making a scene in a Renggukan fighter girl’s tea shop that.

Whatever. It could’ve been a worse reprimanding. Hijikata made a spectacle out of arresting him in front of his coworkers (the ones unaware of his plain clothes operation) and that could be remedied whenever his gig with bodyguard duties was up. Then the vice-chief went and threw him in an interrogation room to berate him and revealed a bigger puzzle piece he long solved about China’s involvement except for the fact that Kondo and Hijikata both hid additional information from him, that the Shinsengumi was conscripted by Umibozu to protect his daughter from impending vengeance from the Tendoshuu for sullying their best fighter’s name or the fighter himself.

Although the Chief confessed that he had orchestrated the discreet operation, Okita elected to tut loudly at the other man. “So really, it isn't a secret at all except for the most important players.”

“ _We_ didn’t tell you because _we_ didn’t trust you,” Hijikata had said it so sternly that Okita was sure that feigned loath was quickly becoming realized as legitimate. As if sensing potential contention and forays on his life, Hijikata grunted and continued. “Rather, you could say we trusted you the most because you know about the ring the best.”

“What the hell? You’re a cop, make up a better cop-out,” Okita replied, unable to keep from sounding querulous.

“Sougo, it isn’t you,” Kondo said, “it’s the Tendoshuu. We suspected that they’d come for you or the China girl one time or another and then we’d be able to find leverage against them and shut their underground ring for good. The Shinsengumi will not allow any more deaths even if it’s our bosses. We have more integrity than that.”

Okita contemplated that. Kondo always cared about others more than warranted. Briefly, he wondered if Kidomaru’s death reached his ears, and certainly even briefer, Okita pondered the status of his kids Danna and Shinpachi prattled on about.

All of these lingering thoughts evaporated once Yamazaki scrambled inside the closed-off room, handing Kondo a file. He flipped it open as Yamazaki saluted, gave a firm nod to Okita, and promptly left. He couldn’t help but caustically nod his head. “I feel my insecurities multiplying, really, if you trusted Zaki more than me in this operation.”

“Not as much as my patience is thinning when we’re trying to fill you in,” Hijikata retorted.

“Would've saved yourself from that hassle if you told me earlier.”  

“It was a preliminary plan up until you decided to make a scene.”

“Kondo-san, Hijikata-san’s bullying me.”

“Strangely enough,” Kondo peered up from the file, handing it off to Hijikata, whose eyes widened slightly before he passed it in full-circle to Okita, “the phone call...the location is in there.”

Okita skimmed the notes until he saw it: a circled address and note written in red ink on the whereabouts of the suspect.

It had to be wrong. 

“Don't make me laugh, I know the princess well enough that she would never try pulling something like this. I know she was in this ward for a meeting, but…”

Okita sucked back into the present as he put down down his materials on the lone table, the blueprints staring up at him. The text reading: TOKUGAWA WARD, CONF ROOM itself was sentient to possibility, answers when really, they only presented more questions: why her? Her whole bit with the tea container was eccentric at best, but the princess valued those around her despite her sadistic tendencies. 

But the accusation was just disgustingly wrong and Okita could see the unanimous agreement in Hijikata and Kondo's expressions. Even if the government, his employers, were complete trash, Soyo Tokugawa was one of the better officials growing into her smaller roles. None of this made sense, but once Yamazaki entered the room once again, he was forced out of his head and tossed back into his duties at the palace that evening.

* * *

Hung high in a half-clouded sky, the moon illuminated lambent through the wooden, open window of one of the guardhouses posted on the palace grounds. Okita laid out the tattered but legible conscientious measurements and rectangle designs–the building layout of the entire Tokugawa land and the schedules for the meetings of the day. He leafed through the first few pages, scanning for any alien structures or ostensibly misplaced markings that he hoped would lead to more. By the time he reached the tenth paper, he inhaled the dry air slowly as he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.

It’s just wishful thinking, he repeated to himself, already chalking up his nightly reading session to guilt and eventual redemption. It had to be guilt–just how well did he know Danna? Meeting his sister aside, accidentally sentencing a bum on a job too big for him shouldn’t mean anything.

 _But it also means I’m shit at even trying to protect anything._ Hell, one of the girls he was supposedly protecting was now a suspect for attacking the other one. Briefly, he recalled the tight smile on Kondo’s face after their reckoning. He was even risking Kondo’s reputation the further Okita kept digging.

But here he was, making up for it, or at least, trying. Trying and struggling to come to terms with how extraordinarily and unnecessarily complicated Edo politics had to be for suspicion to be thrown on the princess herself. To that end,  Kondo told him to be on the lookout for anything peculiar and while he could easily pass the buck–his reason for doing all of this–to orders, even he couldn’t trick himself with his own bullshit.

He briefly heard his sister’s chuckle in his ears. Her kind smile. Her soothing back rubs whenever he lost out to Hijikata. _“You do it because it’s what you have to do. That’s why I know it’ll be okay.”_ His departure to Edo to pursue his samurai creed, Hijikata rejecting her offer to come along. No matter how bitter it may be.

He did it because it’s what he had to do–but why was it at the risk of Kondo’s Shinsengumi?

He opened his eyes again to concentrate on the nightly sky, cut through by darker branches and palace ward buildings, then he gathered the pages close together and bound them, shifted his body to turn to the entrance, and greeted the white coat and red eyes woman stepping into the building.

“Doing your job properly?”

Her eyes settled on the table and refocused on staring at Okita as she nibbled on a pon de ring. er other hand wrapped around a pink box of doughnuts. Okita rose, picking up the jacket draped over his chair and shrugging it on. Discarding the papers into his coat pocket, Okita shrugged. Ever since a faction member’s murder last week, the Mimawarigumi intermingled with the usual palace duties. Suspicion or protection, Okita could only speculate, but for now, he needed to do his job and hope her attention moved away from him.

“That depends,” he gestured to the box. “You down to share?”

She stepped forward, stuffed the doughnut in between her teeth, and began unsheathing her sword a few inches from its holder. “You down to get sliced then?” Nobume paused, thinking for a moment, when she clicked her sword back into place and reached into the box. A  jelly doughnut appeared and she threw it at his feet. “There.”

He squashed it and dug it into the wooden floor as they stared the other down.

Eventually, he barked out a dry laugh as he brushed against her shoulder roughly, Nobume responding with a jab to his back after he passed. He carried on, and thankfully, she didn’t stop him. Under normal circumstances, they’d exchange another snarky comment or two, but with the weight of being restricted from Sadasada’s area kept his humor at bay. Because now that he understood that the Shinsengumi wasn’t just a group of feral dogs, but a band of law enforcers with their own laws to abide by.

Really, he hated the idea of a bossy entity shadowing their every move, but that sounded pettier no matter how he put it.

 _If I really want to find those bastards myself, whoever they really are, they’ll find her first._ His days at the tea house didn’t seem to drag as much as he thought they would, but simultaneously, he was the only thing protecting the China girl from them. Even if the yato head’s daughter was too obnoxious and too bright in the early mornings, he’d do his job and prove himself. But that place needed their own reckoning and he sure as hell was intent on delivering it. The gunman was hired from within the palace to mess around with China in particular. While it was a relief that his position there wasn’t fully discovered yet, the complications and holes only seemed to grow even wider, gaping at him from the pit of uncharted territory that if he crossed and was discovered, would spell tremendous trouble.

For now, he had to focus on this job. He started towards the main ward, inwardly mapping his route.

It was time for another patrol round, but tonight, least of all did he expect for a quiet evening to be jettisoned, abandoned the second he immediately looked up on instinct and spotted the shadow of a figure traversing the palace rooftops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more direct okikagu interaction next chapter but you know who knows when i'll publish it but it's supposed to be soon lol. Feel welcome to talk about fic to me on [my tumblr](https://ceruleankabukicho.tumblr.com/)
> 
> On a personal non sequitur that is Real Talk, feel free to disregard, I'm struggling with my passion/motivation/likability for this fic and my writing for it and I don't love feeling this way lol. Partly because my passion for the fandom has admittedly waned, partly because I feel different as the writer I was when I came into this fandom...'ight weird rant over.  
> Anyway, on a better note, have a beautiful day all ^^


	6. Genmaicha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by! A million and one thanks to my lovely and supporting beta-reader, [ Shay! ](http://lowsugi.tumblr.com/) She literally is the reason I continue this fic (plus all you kind reviewers, you know who you are x).
> 
> Happy 1 year anniversary to this fic! That’s insane! A year ago I was in high school and I can very much compare this ‘Genmaicha’ chapter to the chapter ‘Chamomile’ and see a significant difference. As always, I’d be happy to hear your reactions so don’t hesitate to leave a review/comment! Shameless plug but while you wait for the next part, check out my [ sakamutsu fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13768767/chapters/31645206). Enjoy this chapter–it’s longer but riveting!

The sun set in appeasing pinks and oranges when the fortress of the Tokugawa palace loomed into view. Its curving roofs frowned even from a distance, opulence in shimmering golds and sturdy woods flaunting royalty. It was nothing she was unfamiliar with–radiance and wealth and status–as they included the whole, gauzy package tied with a pretty, silk ribbon. They were normal, everyday settings Kagura long desensitized to ever since her friendship with the princess began, a fateful spring morning when she caught the princess sneaking out the servants' passageway the same time Umibozu and her visited the palace.

They became secretly unruly (on Soyo's part she was the more subtle one), beautiful friends ever since. Now that she had been summoned through another discreet use of random trinket, previous methods including disguised servants bringing her sukonbu boxes or fancy stationery relegated for royalty just for kicks in the form of presents and invitation, she hesitantly approached, gaze darting from one stern face to the next when she felt the attention draw to her. There were more guards at post than usual and it sent a peculiar rigidity about her shoulders and walk.

After all, the main change in the palace was hard to miss. Under the watchful gaze of several Mimawarigumi members and a visiting government official, she remembered to keep her voice friendly.

"Maizou-san, could you tell me where Soyo-hime is?" Pressing the container behind her back, their personal correspondence always prompting an invitation from either one of them in the form of presents over words, she acknowledged the white-coated officers outside.

By the time she stood between jaw-opened, ornate gates, Kagura canted her head once she saw the short stature and greying hair. Maizou's thin glasses glinted in the ailing light. He chuckled, "So you could corrupt her with your terrible snack choices? I'm certain she'll do better off without you."

"Hey, hey, you're getting as stingy as your crotch old man. Is she busy? When he didn't reply instantly, she added, "And shouldn't you be snoozing? It's not good for your skin if you're up this late."

He rolled his eyes and launched into a defensive tirade that included specifics on his hygiene routine at such-and-such times which Kagura did  _not_  care to know. She interrupted him again with the same question.

He snapped shut at the mention of Soyo once again as if remembering her relevancy to the conversation. Thoughtfully and the stroke of his greyed mustache, he replied, "The princess is in a meeting with a house faction. She was asked to accompany her brother last minute and she's asked me to tell you that."

He caught her glancing at her imaginary watch, and shaking his head he assured her, "It shouldn't take too long."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do with this, she asked me to give this back to her as soon as I could!" Kagura lied, arm raised with the ivory pot.

"Did you steal that?"

"I'd never steal from Soyo, you slimy oldie!"

He held his hands surrendering any doubts. "Why are you insulting me when I'm trying to help you?"

"Maizou," an articulated, lower voice joined the conversation, "I thought my team made it clear that the palace would not be receiving unauthorized guests at sundown." Kagura blinked up at the head of the Mimawarigumi– _so the obnoxious know-it-alls Papi works with from time to time._  Sasaki was a steadfast man, unchanging and static in his ways. On handful occasions, she witnessed the rigid but methodical approach he directed and situated his force, and although unquestionable in talent and ability, his agenda remained unclear, particularly the part that the Mimawarigumi normally didn't act as Soyo's palace guards.

When Sasaki met her look, he ignored Maizou's apologies and took a step toward her. "If it isn't the yato clan's daughter. Run along, girl, the elites of Edo are doing business here and we don't need you going back to your father with the latest."

He waited for her response, patient but losing it at the same time, expectant of her simple compliance.

Meanwhile, Kagura was feeling anything but compliant. " _Girl_? Are you that far up your high horse to not even address me properly?"

"On the contrary, until your father decides to give you the dregs of the yato seat in our government, you're nothing but his daughter in reputation. That is unless you're willing to share something exceptional or controversial you've done for society."

"No," she answered, unyielding. "But I'm not leaving. I'm here to see the princess whether you like it or not."

Sasaki inclined his head at Maizou. In return, Maizou nodded and for once, Kagura felt she and Maizou couldn't be any closer than their alliance against the very police force that safeguarded them.

"Very well," he said. "Then I'll have the honor of escorting you to her quarters. You'll have to relinquish your parasol with me. Non-negotiable."

She glared and tossed the parasol at the ground beside him. "Okay, go get it then."

The flying tension in their stares dissolved with his heavy sigh once he snapped at a nearby, ordinary palace guard to pick up her purple parasol. The guard obeyed and Kagura followed Sasaki into the Tokugawa ward, very conscious of stomping on the ground like a bereaved child oppressed without play or freedom.

Once Kagura was certain that Sasaki's blueblood ass left the general ward, the piercing slam of the door shutting and locking evoked her loudest groan yet; her own little form of rebellion against unfair authority. Kagura plopped to the set-up futon and buried her face in her friend's pillow. She rolled around cursing elitists and the police until she felt a light chill skim across her skin.

A cracked open window. For good measure and on the slim chance that the easier exit was available, she tried the door again. It didn't move and when she put forced it a second time, the wood splintered but stayed standing.

Abandoning the door altogether, Kagura pushed aside the window, letting the darkened sky spill into the bright room. A breeze brushed her hair from her shoulder to touch the back of her neck. After a breath pushed itself in and through her lungs, she stepped onto the ledge and crouching low, snapped the window panel closed.

She sauntered along the rough tiles of the compound; from where the contrasts of the Mimawarigumi uniform were specks in the night and blended with the dim lights washing the edges of the building.

Kagura kept to the shadows and with one foot in front of the other, clung to the roof as she peeked through windows. For a moment, she thought she saw Soyo exit a building within her vision and squinted to make out her talking with Sasaki of all people. Kagura leaned closer and angled her head to eliminate the decor from the roof from her line of sight.

It proved to be the right move when something glinted and sliced her cheek.

"Who the-?!" She staggered back, searching the ground for the suspect. Red blossomed on her fingers as she pressed against the cheek wound.

The blood poured significantly from the jagged cut and when the weapon of interest dropped back to earth from the sky, she snagged it from the rooftop tiles it lodged between and decided,  _now or never_ , before dropping to the ground and rolling.

The light in that particular spot was faded and further from the main lanterns. In the dark, she made out a man's build approach and she jumped into action, sweeping her leg and following up his fall with a swipe of her wrist.

Her attacker brought her down to his level, their tussle beginning. He wrenched the knife from her hand, but she brought her elbow to connect across his forearm, the silverware skittering far from both of their reaches. His hands went up to block himself from a potentially painful kneeing to the groin.

Her wrist finally free, Kagura did the instinctively sensible thing after being manhandled: giving her attacker a resounding slap across the cheek.

"Ow!"

Kagura froze.  _I've heard that voice before..._

When she squinted hard enough, she could make out a deep, thin frown plastered all over a handsome face, deep red eyes scowling at her in the dark–hey wait. a.  _minute_.

"What the fuck, sadist!?" She looked him up and down and up again. Kagura rubbed her eyes to be sure that it was the same person in her memory.

Holding a tentative palm to his red cheek, the sadist glared at her. "That was rude. Is this how you treat customers outside of work?"

She counted to five in her head to  _really_  process that it was the same guy arrested by the Shinsengumi earlier, the same guy who annoys her in her own business every day, who cut her face.

"You threw a serial killer KNIFE at me!"

It was already a long day, but gods and goddesses and whatever deities existed to man and yato, the day just kept getting longer.

"It's a cutting knife from the kitchen, relax," he said resolutely. In a carefully blank-faced manner, Kagura nearly swung out of instinct when he shuffled closer and peered close to her face. She stiffened but remained steadfast, fists at her side as he stretched the skin by her cheek, wiping away a burst of blood with an inspective finger. "A particularly sharp one by the looks of it."

She snapped her jaw at it, but he wagged his finger tauntingly at her failed attempt to bite it off with a blase step back. Bummer.

"You just happened to get cut on the serrated edge, moron."

"Like I asked for your diagnosis!"

Kagura threw a hard punch at his face; the sadist lucked out as he ducked out of the way and held her collar to break her inevitable plunge to the dirt ground. She twisted out of his grip and struck his hand away.

The sadist stepped back and looked around him before landing his eyes on hers again. "The palace is closed to visitors." His head slanted. "What're you even doing sneaking around at this hour?"

She swallowed hard. There really was no excuse or light way or wording, 'I snuck away from the princess' room to track her down and get help on how to break a man out of prison'.

"Wait, sir, did you hear that?" Kagura's ears picked up on the foreign voice around the corner. Okita seemed to too, his eyes locking with hers.

A second voice grunted seemingly closer now, "Hear what?"

They reflected the others' immediate stiffness.

"I heard something over there," the first man said, footsteps now audible and heavy. "Stay here; I'll check it out."

"You piece of shit, it's all because of you I'm getting in this mess," Kagura cursed as she yanked Okita up by the hand, pulling him inside the open building and pushing him into a closet. She followed behind him, back to him, and the door rammed out the night lanterns' glow. The most their cramped space illuminated was by the space between the shoji door and the floor and the wall where Kagura could peek

When he stumbled back and straightened, the sadist leaned against a shelf piled high with bedding. "My, this is romantic. Is this the part in the shoujo where I kiss the irritating girl I just met?"

"Keep yapping and it'll be the part I  _castrate_  you."

The floorboards creaked outside. A low voice huffed while the tatami crackled and gave way for the men. Kagura peeked a glance through the thin crack between the door and the wall; white uniforms instantly caught her eye.

Finally, someone grumbled and more shifting later, Kagura released a long breath when she heard the same man tell his partner that they must've been imagining things.

"All right," she said and squeezed herself past Okita to grip the door notch. "Let's get out of here, yes?"

The door rattled but would not budge. She tried it again. And again. And again.

Nothing.

Oh-nope-f*ckity-nope-nope-nope. She had zero time and patience for this.

"OI. SOMEBODY HEALTH ME!" Her mouth was immediately muffled by a cold palm, and when she turned to Okita, she couldn't mistake the irritation written all over his face.

"How stupid are you?" He hissed low and close to her face. "You're going to be in for it if they catch you here."

Kagura clawed at his hand but to no avail. "Shwut thuh fwuck pup!"

The sadist had the audacity to look puzzled.

"Hm? Didn't understand that."

"I zwad, shwht thuh fwack puh!"

She licked his hand. A disgustingly horrible necessity. When his face contorted and he freed his palm from her mouth, she folded her arms and used the back of the stuck door as support.

"Don't act like you have some trump card, we're in this together and I'm taking you down with me," she gestured between them as if that sealed their alliance. Another thought occurred to her. " I'll bet you're sneaking around for some shady reason, too!"

He pursed his lips as he seemed to think about something she said. Then, with a consigned scoff, he mirrored her closed-off arms in a challenge. "Fine, yell some more and we'll see who's really the intruder here."

Kagura was on the precipice of smacking him to his knees–customer service had no need to apply outside of her shop, did it?–but a loud kick to the closet and the door all but skating wide open, Kagura falling right through it and briefly shrieking to the heavens.

* * *

The princess stepped back somehow possessing China's parasol in one hand as the China girl thudded onto the floor. She peered between the two of them, and while Okita's smirk was misleadingly incriminating, he couldn't conceal his villain laughter at the China girl's disgruntlement.

"So," Soyo said, "that's where the two of you went. I thought I heard some scandalous yelling from here." Her smirk differed from his own.

It didn't settle well with him. Obviously, considering recent finds and the like, there were no other external reasons...other than maybe her underlying mischief behind everything written on her face and formed in her words.

"Princess, pleasure running into you this fine evening," Okita returned to his default airiness, casually stepping over Kagura's body.

Fingers wrapped over his ankle and in a blink of an eye, he toppled over her head, but palmed the ground and pushed off of it, feet landing back on his heels.

Kagura was already on her feet though, hugging the princess and begging her to arrest him. As Okita brushed himself off, more conversation must've gone down, because her brows furrowed as she looked back at Okita.

"Wait, you're a cop?!" Soyo spoke some more and the China girl's mouth gaped wider as she started to roll imaginary sleeves for the melodrama of it. " _And_  a captain? Who the hell hired your catnapping ass? Explain, knife thrower!"

Okita shot a look at Soyo and groaned at her feigned innocent shrug.  _Here we go._

* * *

The extent he explained it to her was that he held a significant role in the Shinsengumi and that because of his recklessness on an assignment, he was temporarily allocated to work in the palace on nights. In the middle of the conversation, Soyo attended to wrapping up some business with her brother and her attendants and once he finished his explanation, the China girl sprung from her seat on the floor.

"So you  _are_  an assassin after me!"

Leave it to her to thoroughly cerebrate on the issue.

"No, I just happen to be that bored," he replied stiffly and pulled her back down to sit. He released her instantly once she resigned to lying down on her side, rolling around the ivory container Soyo had given him a while ago- _oh right, I left it for her to take._

"I guess it explains why you have Soyo's possessions if you're her friend."

He shrugged. Nothing was said for a stretched moment until Okita asked a question of his own.

"And why are you here? Didn't your store nearly get trashed today?"

Her tongue stuck out at him as she retorted, "And you, a cop getting arrested so your good name wouldn't get dragged in the mud for being involved in petty vandalism. But if you want an explanation, I'll give it."

She took a moment, her attention on the delicate pottery abandoned. "Something happened in an illegal underground ring. I think your policemen tried to shut it down, but some asshole aliens stopped them. But then a local business owner and my friend got arrested for helping me out of a sticky situation."

_Oh_ , he thought.

"I came here for answers  _and_  because I love Soyo, obviously."

More of the picture came together, but Okita remained unfazed. "What does that have to with being here?"  _And with trusting me with this?_ With everything going on, their own government screwing their own people over for measly reasons and Soyo being thrown under his police force's watchful eye...it shouldn't be happening, but it wasn't implausible either. It just made everyone more suspicious, more conniving,  _darker_  than he could have imagined a lazy government becoming.

Kagura blew up into her hair as she stared at the ceiling. "I don't know, I'm supposed to come up with this great plan to tell Shinpachi-he was also a good friend, the guy who almost got shot today-but I'm not a planner. I was just going to tell him my game plan was to bust into as many prisons as possible and ask Soyo where else her creepy alien superiors–"

"Aren't you alien?"

"–keep their homeless prisoners!"

"How prejudiced, we don't arrest homeless people unless they commit a crime, China."

"For a cop, you missed the entire point," she said and took a lengthy pause. Remembering his original question, she sighed, partly talking to him as the rest was to herself. "What am I supposed to do? I avoid Gin-chan for the longest time and then I...I get so blinded that I get him involved in my mess. He's committed countless felonies and frauds but he doesn't deserve being stowed away and tortured by those guys."

She locked her gaze on his. And that was when he knew she would no longer be thinking out loud but demanding something in return.

"No," was all Okita said.

Kagura jumped on her heels. "You're a gross sadist and all, but you can help me. You have connections and…" she seemed desperate now as she repeated, tongue circuitous in the same plea disguised in declaratives, "and you can help me."

In his peripheries, Soyo quietly entered the room as if the slightest noise would erupt the room in a blaring red spotlight put on them for entertaining intruder who bypassed the Mimawarigumi over detaining them.

"I told you, no."

"Uh-huh, then what's the  _first captain_  of the Shinsengumi doing in my tea shop. It makes sense!  _You know_  something! Spill the beans or I'll spill your guts!"

Okita grunted. He had to relent something then, a puzzle piece to his own point of view. "Fine, your dad wanted me to watch over you. I don't know if he knows anything."

Again, it was just a puzzle piece, not an admission of his own guilt in the matter.

Her jaw went slack and with a shake of the head, she was as good as new. "Then if you know, help me."

Okita stared at her until Soyo cleared her throat. Their eyes waited on the princess as she internally mulled over her choice of words.

"Okita-san, unless you want a formal complaint from the Tokugawa princess, I'd do what she suggests. I may not know Sakata Gintoki as much as either of you, but I do know there's something  _very_  wrong with this place and I intend on keeping my family honorable."

"What exactly are you getting at?"

Kagura flailed her arms at the information, "I mean, yeah, Sasaki's an utter asshat, but why would your family be involved?"

She narrowed her eyes as she seemed to lose herself in thought. Okita thought he'd never seen the princess this deadly serious; it must come out during critical points in all of those meetings she's been attending.

"The Mimawarigumi is here because there are faction tensions between the Hitotsubashi family and my own. No one's told me as much, but it's easy to gather if you turn on the TV and find Hitotsubashi daimyos and leaders dead and more of them demanding to see the entire Tokugawa heads in meetings."

"You're suspecting your own family? Your brother?" Okita said hesitantly and he side longed a look at China, finding her equally surprised.

"There's someone in both factions out to get the other. And I have a feeling one of us knows where Gintoki is. We all bend over backward for the Tendoshu and Naraku. It makes sense."

The China girl brightened at this explanation and Okita could already hear the gears whirring in her cobwebbed brain. She threw her arms around her again and they briefly embraced. "Soyo, you're really a princess and I love you." The princess laughed but pulled away as soon as they made contact.

Okita cleared his throat. He tried to unease the tension riding his shoulders up as he leaned back and attempted to make sense of Soyo's smiles and wrinkling, twinkling eyes toward her friend.

"I recently received intel that  _you_  were behind the...'gun show' and potential vandalism at the China girl's tea shop," he disregarded Kagura's affronted look. Soyo impressively kept any sudden emotions from showing save for piqued curiosity in her slow blink. "That is because the call came from the same area you were in post-meeting with the region's officials."

There was a beat and ample, severe accusations from Kagura, calling Okita obscenities in defense of her friend. But the princess took it all in stride. "If you must know, official Kinya–the one you guys protected once–actually loitered around longer than me. I retired to my quarters early; ask Maizou-san if you're that suspicious."

Her prompt, direct answer along with her easy body language released Okita's breath. That name, Kinya, recalled the image of a snivelling, sneering frog-faced official he so badly wished he burned on the stake for real those years ago. As of late, Yamazaki was passing along his doubts about his activity, and if what the Princess was saying had veracity to it, then she had no reason to lie about anything else.

He was, however, relentless. "Perhaps you meant for me to give the China girl this object to lure her here while the potential robber, vandal, whatever, did as he pleased with her property. Umibozu keep running away into space, not holding up his militia agreements to the state? Or are you in cahoots with the Tendoshuu and the ring?"

Once he finished his accusations, Okita caught the punch coming for his stomach without looking at the attacker.

"How  _dare_  you."

"How dare I what, China girl?"

"Attacking Soyo just because you're a cruel, unloved, shit face."

"That's all you, ugly."

"Why you little…!"

The China girl made a move as if she were prepping for some wild animal fealty to her friend, looking ready to pounce him and gouge out his innards as she butt his head. It ached in passing and without any pause, he returned the favor, pushing back equally fierce.

A melodious, feminine giggle erupted. When Okita and China turned their attention back on the princess, she was holding in laughing, shining tears from her tear ducts.

"Okita-san, I knew you were a lax captain, but you and the Shinsengumi are collective idiots at detective work. First of all, confronting your suspect without a proper arrest? Unbelievable. I'll have to speak to Matsudaira-san about your behavior. In any case, I can understand if you're dubious of my motives, but really, you can ask the cooks and Maizou-san to confirm my alibi. And," her face lost warmth rapidly, a tremendous contrast to her slow enunciations, "you should know more than anyone that as my guard along with Nobume-san that I go to these meetings not because I have to, but because I want my voice to matter more than simply being a princess figurehead for our citizens to admire."

Okita clicked a pen and found an empty parchment in his pocket, scribbling down her alibi and the people he needed to follow up on. The entire time, he felt the searing looks from the China girl and Soyo's passiveness, the kind she wore on the occasions he witnessed her speak to her grandfather after witnessing his abuse of Maizou, her older companion.

Albeit a little awkwardly, Okita cleared his throat. "Fine. I'll confirm this. But it's true Kinya's the more reasonable target for my group to look into; we had another piece of intel the other month we hadn't addressed yet with his side dealings with the Harusame. Although now I want to know something about what else you're proposing, Your Highness, because, for a young princess, you seem awfully rebellious." Okita couldn't help himself; while this was precisely a roundabout way of taking down Rengogukan for good like Kondo and Hijikata ordered, it required volatile risks guaranteed to explode with a single misstep. He had gambled too much once Gintoki was taken away and Kondo put on a tight leash. Cautiously, Okita dropped the formalities with the princess. "All this at the expense of pissing all over the alien powers that pull your strings? Is that worth it to you?"

It wasn't because he was selfish, he told himself. It was for his security, for Kondo's, for the Shinsengumi's, even Gintoki's, to make her come to terms what it meant to dirty your hands in the system.

"Yup! It's worth it for Kagura, Gin-san, and my country. But that worst case scenario...it'll only happen if  _you_  screw this up for the rest of us and you don't want to be the reason you disband the Shinsengumi and the Tokugawa throne because you couldn't be bothered," she continued, a spark lighting up her eyes, a sadism and cleverness he rarely saw her play appearing in support of her friend and cause. They were less icy, but friendliness long vanished from her normally warming green.

It was then that he knew he would have to delve deeper, sift through this jumbled, dirtied circumstance they've discovered their hands in and from there, they would need to endure.

Soyo shifted from one leg to but then, without preamble, she raised her chin, pulled her shoulders back as she found Okita's eye level. Quickly, he glanced at his knuckles, the red in them healed with time and care. Whatever would happen next demanded both qualities–time and care– to heal this gaping wound in the government, the one the Princess so cared about, the damage that sat in between the wedge that drove Gintoki and his Odd Jobs team apart.

In that moment, her temerity gleamed more than her duties, than the Tokugawa image, than everything supremely feminine that came with being a Princess as she tilted her head to inspect him. "Tell me, honestly, is that the type of man you are, Okita-san?"

* * *

Morning arrived and Kagura burst into Snack Otose, greeted everyone hastily, and stopped once she saw her  _Anego_ and Shinpachi. Her mind raced, mapping out possibilities, cohering the information from Soyo and that bastard (how could he accuse Soyo like that when he was doing a shit job at everything he did!), and solving how everyone fit all into this. Their play risked a lot, but with Gin-chan disappearing and the mess she left behind in Rengogukan, she figured it was time to move forward.

For real this time. This time, she had a solid plan provided by a strong support.

The brisk air followed her into the Otae was in the middle of scolding Shinpachi over yesterday, Kagura figuring out quickly it was about the almost robbery incident at her tea store and taking his time coming home:

"I'm telling you if you were with Kagura-chan, why did you visit her just so you could put everyone in danger? And then not come home right away?"

" _Aneue_ , it's not like I wanted to get caught up in a hold-up!"

As Kagura propped her elbows on the bar a few seats away from the Shimuras' booth, she continued to listen, but couldn't hold back a wince overhearing her  _Anego_ 's voice increasingly stern and putting together that Shinpachi's pride was on a metaphorical road to declivity and demise the further her  _Anego_ vented her worry.

But then, she forgot that Catherine existed to out people, Kagura being no exception. Catherine snorted as she watched Kagura, teased her for being so afraid with that loud voice of hers, and started mocking her dog eyes.

Otae turned to follow whoever Catherine was talking to, her mouth in the middle of politely asking Catherine to shut up.

It'd been some time since she had spoken to  _Anego_ , too. And despite the few months of disconnect, the other woman broke into a smile and scolded her just as much as she had with Shinpachi, lightly hitting her upside the head with every sentence that told her off about not visiting, not saying anything. Not, not, not. Everything she didn't do.

But she was here now, Otae said fondly to her, and made it clear that all of them were in this mess together no matter who started it.

Kagura asked her if she meant it and Otae's answer was firm, simple, and direct. "What sort of  _Anego_  would I be if I abandoned you when you needed it the most?"

Throwing her arms around Otae, embracing the other for a long time, letting a tear trail down her cheek. Otae always knew what to say and when to say it and although she'd never admit it outloud now, she was forever thankful to know there were people ready to receive her. Some days it felt like she didn't deserve this sort of kindness, this support for all her mistakes like forgetting her heart and the people she cared for the most to focus on her family as if they were exchangeable, but now….

Releasing a long breath, Kagura felt the sun tickle her skin from the glass window as it burned to the dial of an early afternoon. Somehow, broken days began to mend back together with the promise of finding Gintoki together.

It was clear: now she knew better. The best things in life sometimes demanded to lean on others in order to get what you wanted. And to get back Gin-chan and to guarantee that those kids stay safe at the orphanage, all of this needed to be done. If someone could go after her at her own business, and if intuition served her right, the same people who followed her were the same ones out to stifle her involvement and her rebelliousness in the ring.

Once she pulled back to look between the two Shimuras, Kagura heaved a deep breath. From explaining that her customer regular turned out to be her secret watch to their now help as he would make use of his position, to hinting at the larger, political picture her Papi liked to call "Earthling folly", how was she supposed to pitch her idea?

"So," she dragged the vowel out as long as possible, staring right into her friends' eyes, "we might have to wring the government's panties a bit, a bunch of aliens who could end us the second they find us out, and possibly risk Gin-chan's life if we fail, but you wanted to know how we could fix all this, right?"

Shinpachi nearly fell out of his seat in sync with an eavesdropping Catherine dropping a glass against the tabletop. That early afternoon, the four people at Snack Otose relearned an important lesson: let no one ever believe Kagura would lose her touch for the shocking, the frank, and the bullheaded qualities to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi: we all know I already update infrequently but this one's on an indefinite hiatus


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